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I was in Starbucks the other day (middle class evidence #1) and I was waiting for my coffee alonside a young woman who was clearly irked.  She told me she’d been waiting more than five minutes for a latte and several other customers who had arrived earlier had already received their caffeine fix for the day.

 I was unsure if what she told me was true, but several minutes later she was still there, waiting – and many more customers who had ordered after ME had been given their coffees.  She gave me a knowing look and said “I mean, how long does it take to make a coffee?”, and in that moment I was with her.  We were brothers.  Or sisters.  Whatever, we were on the same side.  I’d found a coffee whinger who I respected and understood.  I thought about saying something hilarious back at her to demonstrate our coffee companionship.  Something which included the word ‘barista’ as it amuses me, but I couldn’t think of anything so I made that ‘tsk’ sound with my mouth and rolled my eyes.  We were compadres.  As one.  And then she ruined it all.

“This is why I normally go McDonalds for my coffee”, she said.  And my heart sank.  She was NOT me.  I was NOT her.  We were NOT the same.  She didn’t even say “that’s why I go TO McDonalds” – she missed the bloody ‘TO’!  I GO MCDONALDS!!!!  And after that I didn’t care about her coffee.  She had gone down in my estimations. 

And soon after this, the middle class barista gave me my middle class drink and I left McDonalds girl to fend for herself to go to my middle class job in the middle class world of media.  She’s probably still there, like a little girl lost, smelling of Big Mac juice and longing for caffeine. 

I’m not proud of myself.


About Twenty8Later

A brand new podcast mocking news, sport & entertainment in handy 28-day chunks. Good times in a terrible, terrible world.

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