Chestnut Hill: Death by Starbucks

Sounds like someone’s dying for a coffee.

There’s a new guy at Starbucks, and he’s obsessed with getting everyone’s name right. He’s also super friendly, and even though statistically speaking it’s unlikely that he’s a serial killer, because he’s not a White Man, it makes me nervous.

He’s very polite, but a bit… Intensely nice.

It’s that weird ‘corporately mandated’ kind of nice… It’s that ‘thank fuck I’ve finally got a shit job’ kind of Nice. It’s that ‘Friendly because my fucking life depends on it’ unnerving Nice.

Or, it’s simply Serial Killer Nice.

So, either way, I don’t want to mess with him… And, he can’t get my name right…

Last week, his first week, it went like this –

Me: Lara

Him: Sara

Me: Lara

Him: Laura

Me: Lara

Him: Clara

And every time he got my name wrong, his smile, and his eyes, Got BIGGER.

I began to worry that I was going to actually break his face – POP!

Like a balloon.

So, I decided to just give in, and I ended up with Clara, the name of my abusive step-grandmother, scrawled on an enormous frozen drink. I had my Clara-drink in my hands for at least two hours. Trust me, nobody wants to be Clara.

I just want Starbucks, without a side of Childhood Trauma.

Soooo, today, I decided I don’t want to stress either of us out, because I don’t want his weird smile to get so big that he pops his face, and I don’t want him to know my name… so I told him my name is Matty.

I gave him the first name that I thought of… my husband’s name. Anyway, that is just logical. If the dude is really a serial killer, my husband is responsible for fighting him off, so I feel like it’s only polite of me to make sure that this dude knows his actual name.

Him: Matty?

Me: Yeah.

Him: M… A… D… D… Y? Is it Madeline?

Me: It’s just Matty, with T, not with D. Matty.

Him: M… A… T… I… E?

Me: Umm… Yeah?

Him: Ahoy, matey!

Me: Umm, OK.

Him: You look a lot like another customer who was in here last week, named Clara!

(Pause)

Me: Is your name Dexter?

Him: What? Wow, Dexter, again? So weird, you’re the fifth person in a week that has asked me that! Weird, right?

Me: Yeah, super weird…

(I give up. At this rate, I’ll likely end up dying of dehydration.)