He was thin and 5’2″. His salt and pepper hair was combed in a man poof and held in place with beryl cream. His oversized jean shirt was opened, showing his rocker tee-shirt underneath. He was ready for a hike with his kleene footwear and beige cargo pants.
He was on a sort of a mission and with a scowl on his face, reading from his mental to do list.
He was to fetch a medium bold coffee with cream and sugar.
Getting the right size of coffee was easy since the girl on the other side of the counter was helpful.
It was adding the cream and the sugar and selecting a suitable top that became a little bit more confusing.
He stood for a few moments looking at the dairy options and blurted out “Which one is cream” waving his hands over the condiment station. It was a little like eenie meanie minee moe. His hand went back and forth between the two option before landing on the milk.
“Hmmmph, well this should be good” and he filled the coffee cup up to the brim with milk.
Now the sugar. This is a little more complicated only because there are three choices.
1. Dark raw sugar in a jar.
2. Refined, fine white sugar in a jar.
3. Sweetener in individual sized yellow package’s.
Again with the hand waving, like a magician trying to make a rabbit disappear, over the top of the sugar options until his hand landed on the yellow packaged sweetener.
“This will do” and he poured the contents of two packages into the medium coffee and stirred it all together with a wooden stir stick.
The final step is selecting a top which can be a little tricky too with more than one option. There was no hand waving. Instead he picked up a latte lid, turned his hips, cocked his head and asked, “You think this will do?”
He didn’t wait for a reply, turned back and snapped the lid in place.
He reached back into the sweetener container and pulled out a few more packages, stuffed them into his shirt pocket and muttered, “Just in case.”
By now I was smiling, watching his curious behaviour and I commented, “Might as well be prepared!”.
“Yes, I am not sure how much sugar she wants, I never know so I’d rather be safe”.
He grinned at me, pleased as punch that he’d been picked for the coffee run by the lady. He turned on his heal, a spring in his step and was gone…