my bartender calls it an IPA
my barista calls it a tall drip
my old lady calls it boring
I call it dependable
predictable
like clockwork like
routine consistency
hard wired
muscle memory
call me crusty
autopilot
player piano bro
r e g u l a r
it’s not that I love routine
I’d rather direct my energy
toward other things
At my local Brew Pub the bartender “G” has a pint of Scarlet Fire pouring as I walk through the door and it’s in my hand long before the tourist family that’s inline in front of me finishes sampling and tasting and asking questions about each and every beer on tap.
At one of the only coffee shops that's open on campus these days the barista “B” has a tall drip poured for me long before all the Health Sciences undergrads order their white chocolate mochas and 2.67 pumps of vanilla foo foo moo choo drinks. When she sets it on the counter for me I get some looks because there were no words exchanged between us and my drink is ready before the six people in front of me.
Once upon a simpler time I frequented a coffee shop so often that they named one of their bagel sandwiches after me. Then they went out of business. Correlation, but let's not jump to causation.
Call me crusty. I call it kickass customer service for a consistent customer.
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