I was having one of those days, today, where the walls feel a little like they’re closing in on me and the floors feel a lot like they’re covered in an amount of fur produced by some combination of a dog, two cats, and a wildebeest, and I was feeling sort of like I didn’t really want to deal with either problem, so I escaped to Starbucks for a little while. I discovered this weekend while in Ottawa hanging out with my cousins that I had an extra $30 on my Starbucks card (personalized for me a few Christmases ago by my mom and which I had set to auto-reload for a while and which apparently did not STOP auto-reloading as per my instructions around the time the economy all went to crap) that I was unaware I had, so I was looking forward to a festive red cup hot chocolate purchased with FREE MONEY woo hoo!
I ordered a gingerbread hot chocolate and then observed the following conversation between the two baristas a few minutes later:
Barista #1: Did you put the gingerbread syrup in already?
Barista #2: Yes. I did. At least, I think I did. (pause) Yeah, I’m pretty sure I did.
Barista #1: How sure are you?
Barista #2: Really sure. (pause) Well, pretty sure.
Barista #1: I think I’m going to add the syrup again just in case.
Turns out, Barista #2 had in fact already added the syrup, which I did not discover until I was halfway home and took my first sip. This hot chocolate burns going down, kind of like scotch only cheaper, slightly less disgusting, and less likely to be paired with a cigar and this week’s issue of The Economist.
Could they not SMELL the hot chocolate to see if it smelled like gingerbread? Derrr?
They seemed a little new. Smelling it didn’t occur to me (and them too, apparently) at the time, although on the way home I got out of the car to run another errand and when I got back in, I was met with a rather overwhelming gingerbread aroma. In fact, the car still kind of smells like it.
Your car could smell like WAY worse things than gingerbread. Mine does.