Step back. He’s a pro.

In order to not O.D. on green tea lattes, I have to mix it up every once in a while by trying something new.  A poster advertising a lemon-yellow drink behind the barista at the register caught my attention.  After explaining that I couldn’t see what it was without my glasses, she briefly described the drink as, “an orange, banana, mango protein smoothie” and then makes the quotation mark gesture with her hands while saying, “the Viviano”.  Sounds good.  I’ll take it.

I decide that service is probably not one of her strengths after she starts detailing how much she dislikes the labor intensive process of making my drink.  My time at the register is prolonged as I hand her my debit card.  Her male co-worker steps up behind her and politely volunteers to make it, assuring me he doesn’t mind it at all.  She continues rambling about the protein powder, the mix, the juice, and how annoying it is to have to peel bananas for the smoothie.

He chimes in with, “Ha.  I used to work at Marble Slab.  Do you know how much stuff we had to mix into the ice cream all the time?  Not to worry.  I’ve handled many-a-banana in my day.”

I am dying inside as I try to control my urge to make a smart comment.  Lucky for that guy I’m not “Michael Scott”.  As far as the Viviano is concerned, it was too small, not quite satisfying, and I won’t be trying it again.

Hopefully, that’s NOT what she said.

Usually sun-colored

To wash down my breakfast bagel I ordered my usual from Starbucks, a green tea latte with 2 pumps of syrup and non-fat milk.  The enthusiastic barista handed me my drink while remarking in her thick accent, “It’s really green!”

I assisted in stating the obvious.  “Heh.  Yep, guess it is.”

She then says, “Could I ask you a personal question?”  This inquiry always leaves me a little hesitant to respond with any semblance of a go-ahead.  When a man wants to ask me something personal it is always concerning at least one of two things, my appearance or relationship status.  Women have a lot more leeway on their chosen subject due to the whole “girl-talk” loophole.

Placated by my green tea, I answer, “Sure.”

Taking full advantage of womanly intimacy, she giggles while asking, “Does it come out that color when you take it to the bathroom?”

Lady.  Wow.  Seriously.  How many times has your waiter asked you what color your poop is based on the dish you just ordered?

I shake my head and assure her that my urine is not green.  “Nope.  It’s yellow every day, all day.”

She giggles again.