My Barista Hates Me!

It used to be the most satisfying of relationships. Every bleary-eyed morning, I could depend on Trudy and J. to get me my short iced Americano. Every morning they had my drink ready when I walked up to the counter. I felt special and loved.

But, something changed last week.

I think it was when Trudy forget to get my baklava. I didn't remember until after I left the store and came back. I explained the situation to J. because Trudy was on break. Maybe she told Trudy, who thought I stole it? Or, perhaps I became too picky about my drink. You see, J. is the far superior barista. Usually she tends to the coffee and Trudy to the cash register. But, when Trudy makes the coffee, her drinks are too strong. She started putting them in a bigger cup to fit more ice. J. still used the small cup and it always tastes great. Today, however, J. used a big cup and made me a weak drink. I don't think they want my business anymore, for some reason.

Now, there is never any drink when I come up to the counter. Trudy just stares at me like she hasn't a clue in the world what I want to drink. I have to say "short iced Americano, please" just like all of the other schmoes. My one perfect relationship is over. I can't wait until I graduate and can try another off-campus coffee place. Maybe its all for the best.