Honest Words - Sizes

Greetings Dear Reader,

As some of you know one of my favorite things is to have a good cup of fresh brewed coffee in the morning.  I roast my own beans and find that I enjoy those cups the best. I buy greens beans from a honest and equitable grower (I refuse to fall into the “free trade” and “sourced” vernacular.) From time to time, however, I must acquire coffee at one of the places that insists on turning a good cup of coffee into a hot milkshake. 

In a world where one is being forced to pay four or five dollars for a cup of coffee served by a “barista” it is very difficult to see the sense in renaming sizes to exclusive and confusing words.  In an effort to not be too recalcitrant regarding social convention, I will purchase hot milkshakes for my Daughter, Christmas before church. 

The place where I am most often forced to obtain my hot milkshakes is at the center of town very close to the large university in my town.  The Baristas who are sober enough to work the Sunday morning shift work their revenge by insisting that one learn their size secret code.  I have trouble recalling which size gets me the most coffee for my money. 

In my mind it should be as simple as ordering “a large coffee to go”.  I try saying that and the Barista instantly marks me for a coffee Luddite.  “Do you mean ‘Grande’ or ‘Venti’?”  She asks this in a tone that is both impatient and dismissive.  I respond by saying that I would like the largest cup of “just plain coffee” that I can get.

There are three “Baristas” behind the counter.  As if on cue they all look at each other and smirk. “You mean you want a ‘Trenta’,” she smiles in that tone that says she is poking out your eyes with her long-handled spoon.

I smile back and say, “If that is a large coffee then that is what I want.”  She, however,  needs me to say the word and repeats herself.  “So you want a ‘Trenta’?” 

I realize that if I do not push the love of God into my voice I am going to be impatient with this underpaid, overworked server.  Also I can hear mummers behind me as the line of people just want me to say the right magic words so they can get to the barista and order their over-priced hot milkshakes.

I refuse to say the word but I nod in agreement.  That will be fine. I think it is over.  I am so very wrong.  I must answer questions about where the coffee came from and the degree to which I wish the coffee to have been roasted.  Please tell me what is wrong with just asking me if I want a small, medium, large, or extra-large coffee?  I do not care which beans you use as long as it is not that cat poop coffee. 

Normal size names are honest words.  I don’t care if my coffee is free range or grass fed.  You do not need to inform me that each bean was given a holistic naming ceremony before you ground it to dust.  I care that growers are treated honestly and that they get an honest price for their product.  I will participate in the purchase of honest-trade coffee (I refuse to say “fair-trade” as that is not an honest term). 

I paid the ten dollars for out two cups of coffee.  I waited for the barista to do her voodoo on Christmas’ hot milkshake.  Sure enough the coffee is ready and the young lady delivering it calls our names.  She has trouble with mine.  Written on my cup is an attempt at spelling my name.  Even my spell check is arguing with the word “Eramiss”.

Wishing you joy in the journey,

Aramis Thorn

Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every writer who has become a disciple of Christ’s rule of the universe is like a home owner. He liberally hands out new and old things from his great treasure store.”

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