Making your way in the world today takes everything you’ve got.
Taking a break from all your worries, sure would help a lot.
– Cheers theme song
All the cool guys in all the cool movies always have their regular hangout, and when they get in, all they have to say to the bartender is “the usual”, or maybe not even that. Maybe they just nod, and get what they want. Even Homer Simpson.
That’s somehow the height of customer service, and that’s what Amazon, and all the other web stores are trying to emulate with their recommendations.
And I hate it.
A few years ago, I used to go to a sushi place to get a lunch latte. I had to stop going there, due to “a contract dispute” – see: “The List” – but I was probably going to, at least, take a break, anyway. They were beginning to get to know me a little too well. It was the same with Mike’s Coffee, but they were saved by the fact that their regular barista went on a maternity leave.
I like good service at least as much as the next guy, and I’m a creature of habit just as much as well. I also like my privacy, and most importantly, I like to think of myself as a bit of an unpredictable, wild and crazy guy, who might just do something unexpected. That’s why I don’t want to have my “usual”, even if I get that tall latte nine times out of … ten.
During my Year of the Underwear which I spent in my tiny student apartment writing my thesis, yes, in underwear, I would get up in the morning, goof around, read the paper – no Internet, kids – write or read, and then take a lunch break and get something from the grocery store across the street.
That something happened to be a Finnish delicacy: lihapiirakka, a deep fried meat pie, that looks like a donut. I would get in, walk to the far end of the store, ask the lady behind the counter to give me two lihapiirakkas, she’d ask me if I wanted something else, I would say, “no, thanks”, and walk back towards the front of the store to pay for my lunch. It was a small store, so she wore all hats, and would just follow me to the cash register.
One morning as I walked in, I saw the lady see me, reach for a white paper bag, and slip two lihapiirakkas in. Stunned by this unexpected development, and her impertinence, I asked to get two Karelian pasties which she then put in a white paper bag. I walked to the cash register and waited for her. I paid, and went home.
I never went back to the store again. Wife would call that the perfect Risto revenge, defined as a stupid act of passive retaliation in which the only party getting hurt is Risto. Except, that store is no longer there. In its place, there is a strip joint.
These days, I have an espresso machine at home so I’m my own barista, but of course, every once in a while I just like to get out and take a break so I drive to a nearby coffee shop to get a latte and maybe a cinnamon bun.
Today, I think I saw the barista smile knowingly when I walked in.
It may be time for a break. And next time, maybe I should get a sandwich, or a new kind of a treat with my latte, to shake things up a bit. If that doesn’t help, I’m afraid I will have to switch to another place.
As usual.