It's The Small Things

When you're an intern, surviving the daily grind of photocopying and phone-answering, there are few things in life to get excited about.

Which is why I like to look at the small things to brighten my day.

And today, that small thing is the Starbucks in Soho Sqaure.

Now, call me a materialist, call me a coffee whore, but I'm going to come right out and say it: I like Starbucks. I like the reassurance; the feeling that no matter where I am in the world, whereever there is a Starbucks, I can feel at home. I remember on a trip to Madrid the Boy and I got so sick of eating Spanish food that on our last day we positively fled to Starbucks, basking in the familiar green and the welcoming aroma of generic, Capitalist coffee. I like frappucinos, even if they are a bastardy of Italian in a manner that no Paulo or Graziella worth their cafe solo would be proud of. I like the fact that my coffee can come with vanilla or hazelnut syrup, in sugar or sugar-free varieties. Hell yeah, I'm not afraid, I'll say it again: I like Starbucks.

And I like it even more because, despite their obvious commercialism and cut-and-paste sites, if you go in there enough times the staff start to treat you like on of the family.

Case in point: My current boss is very particular. He likes the same thing, at the same time, every single day. This includes a particularly complicated coffee order which contains at least five words which took me at least five days to remember without having to write it down.

Starbucks doesn't really have that many staff members, so it's likely that if you're in there at the same time, every day, ordering the same thing, they'll eventually remember you. It starts off with an awkward "of all the coffee shops in all the world..." type smile. Then you move on to the "ah, we meet again" type hello. That hello makes you feel special. That hello says, "hey, you're not just an ordinary customer, you're a regular."

But today - oh, today - I hit my personal best. The barrista sees me comes in, points a finger at me and recites my order without even blinking. I'm remembered. I'm somebody.

And that is what has made my day. A barrista in Starbucks remembering an order that isn't even for me.

Wow, I really need to get a job.