I have been sitting in Starbucks for 15 minutes now, and I still do not have coffee.
More specifically, I am afraid to get my coffee.
The cashier is creeping me out.
I am in a Starbucks I do not normally frequent.
And there is something wrong with the cashier to the point that I am paralyzed.
He’s a young kid, short brown hair, glasses, intelligent look in his eyes.
But above those eyes?
One thick eyebrow. Thick BUSHY eyebrow. Over both eyes.
He is the Armenian Harry Potter.
It all started when I came thru the front door.
Potter’s head snapped around like he had radar, and he locked eyes with me.
“Welcome to Starbucks.”
And the brow started staring at me.
I shook my head, mumbled and took a seat.
Its been 15 minutes so far.
I have decided to wait him out.
He has to take a break sometime.
Its Starbucks, by law he has to take coffee break.
I am beginning to seriously jones for my morning coffee.
Addiction will trump creepy in the grand scheme of things.
I finally get up, approaching the counter like a character in a horror film, a sense of impending doom running up my spine.
I spew my order, slap down money and slide to the right.
Same MO as the “Soup Nazi” episode of Seinfeld. Avoid eye contact and try to be invisible.
But Harry is not done with me.
“Sir, your receipt.”
Now, in any Starbucks on the planet, they don’t care if you have your receipt.
They ask if you want it, but they never have it in their hand.
Potter is hold it up like he’s Charlie with the golden ticket.
Not today, Veruca.
I play dumb, angling my head further to the right, just enough so that its plausible that I did not see him.
On the bulletin board on the wall is an ad for a drum circle at the Hermosa Pier.
I love drum circles, but I dislike the people who are hard core drum circle people.
There is always a certain element of old weird hippy to them that throws me off.
But they can drum their asses off.
Potter tries a couple more times, then gives it up, finally taking the order of the next creeped out customer.
I begin to watch how he interacts with the people in line.
Some are really bad at hiding their discomfort. They peer at him like a distasteful bug that they are handing money too. Holding it out like rich people handing money to a smelly bum.
You have to wonder what the manager was thinking when he hired Potter.
Unless…of course. It all falls into place now.
He is the manager.
Most managers are creepy.
Rank hath privilege.
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