Yesterday was my first official day back in the office. I am one of the first people on the floor and it was lovely to see one of the other early birds whom I have not laid eyes on in over a year. After the pre-requisite elbow touching in place of a hug, the first few minutes are spent catching up. It was a routine repeated as others came in. I spent the day in a bubble of working, reconnecting and organizing as we also make ready for a floor wide restructuring.
Some of it was very familiar: Coming in early, jumping into work, plugging up to my music to focus, not taking a proper break for a few hours; rolling my eyes at the one colleague who insists on wearing ill-fitting shoes that squish and clomp noisily as they pass my desk, staying late to work with a client having an issue, even the extra-long commute home was an annoying comfort of the familiar.
Still, for all its familiarity something about yesterday that felt off and I could not identify it until today.
Yesterday… 🎵 Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so fa… 🎵
Huh? Oh, wait sorry, sorry… brain wandered off for a musical moment, I’m back.
Yesterday, because I was distracted by several things, I had not taken my mid-morning coffee run.
Today I remembered. So off went I to my home away from home, away from home.
While the trip itself was done by almost by rote, it was once I was back at my desk and sipped that did it.
My Starbucks special order, the one thing I cannot get in my neighborhood, was in my grubby little talons once more.
There was a new staff from when I was there last; no familiar faces at all. I handed my phone to the barista and watched her face as she glanced from the phone to the register to place the order and then gave me a silent but definitive are you fucking serious(?) look as she handed the phone back. I especially enjoyed the look of resigned yet annoyed belief when I informed her of the irony that it was a former Starbucks barista who worked at that location, which gave me the recipe.
I have a Keurig with Starbucks k-pods at home, and I love it, but it’s still not quite the same thing because I have that ridiculous order. Yes, my favorite order is one of those orders. When I cannot mobile order, I amuse myself by watching every new barista I hand my phone read the order and then tries, but inevitably fails, to not make a face as they re-read it a couple of times before they make it.
Whether it’s the fancier machines or their precise measurements for the base, it’s just something that I cannot duplicate in my kitchen.
As that first sip slid past my palette and settled oh so warmly in my tummy, I felt it. It’s a small thing, but a needed one.
Ah yessssssssssss! I was back…
Slice of Life – Tuesday Writing Challenge – Two Writing Teachers
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Lol on the musical moment, and there’s nothing like a good cup of coffee. I’m so glad you are back safely.
Thank you Nancy, it has been an interesting couple of days so far, that’s for sure.
Food definitely helps me feel at home after any absence. When I get to New Jersey after a long absence I go straight for the food before the hotel, before getting to anyone’s house.
Yes! I fully understand this. Thanks, Lisa.
Somehow the taste changes when someone else makes it. Glad to hear things are getting back to normal for you. We are starting our monthly retired teachers lunches next week. Can’t wait.
Thanks Arjeha. A different set of hands, and a better machine, really does change the taste for most coffees. Or maybe it’s just being pre-relaxed at not having to be the one to do it. Who knows? It just works.
Ha! Here I was, thinking I was the only one who went through life with a musical soundtrack interrupting thoughts willy-nilly. I should have suspected. =) AND…<> …I seem to remember Starbucks saying something recently about how they welcome the super-goofy, ultra-picky orders. Although maybe the baristas still dread it!
Oh, Lainie, I have music streaming through my mind constantly. I just don’t always own up to how often they disrupt things while mid post or I’d never get anything original down. because I’d be too quoting everything. 😀 Thanks, Lanie.
My high school senior year superlative was “most likely to burst into song.” (I may or may not have lost “class clown” by one vote…)
My senior year superlative was Class Wit. I still maintain it was short for Class Witch. The snark ran deep with me even back then. 😀