living in america

here's a scene that played out at the starbucks on mass ave. over the weekend:

sweet barista - hi, how are you?

l - hi. i'll have a grande, non-fat, no whip, peppermint mocha.

sweet barista - how are you?

that cute little barista called me out. for being rude, for being short, for not answering her question. i felt so bad. was i one of those people who didn't see the real person, in too big of a hurry to get my coffee that i couldn't make small talk? i thought about it for nearly an hour after we left.

fast forward a few days. i tell s i'm gonna sit down and try to write a post. he asks about what.

l - well sunday at starbucks...

s - that barista? she was so rude!

i had no idea s had even caught the exchange, much less given it a thought. he had an entirely different take than i had. he said i didn't have to tell her how i was doing, it was none of her business how i was doing. it was her job to get my coffee and offer me great customer service. i was nice to her. yes, i should have answered the question, but she tried to make me feel bad. she judged me. she was the rude one.

i laughed and didn't feel so bad. and i appreciated my husband for always having a different perspective.