Tenth Musee

There’s a barista at the Starbucks I go to that is one of those people that you feel like you know from somewhere, but can’t put your finger on it and they always look at you knowingly, expectantly, like any minute you’ll remember who they are.  But I never do.

She’s… unusual, I guess, is the best way to say it. Very friendly, but definitely an odd duck.  She seems somewhat goofy when I talk to her, like I make her nervous. She seems to try really hard to be funny or clever and she often is a bit ‘familiar’ with me, which is why I always wonder if maybe I know her from somewhere.

For example, the first time I ordered from her went a little something like this…

Her: May I help you?

Me: Yes, I need a quad Venti extra hot soy cinnamon dolce latte, light whip, no foam, please.

Her: Do you need it or do you want it?

Me: *blink blink* I’m sorry, what? Oh… (insert courtesy laugh here) Sorry, I would like…

I laughed it off and dismissed it as an employee building rapport with their customer. Fine, fine. But then she did it two more times when I came in.  I finally started skipping the pretense altogether and just saying the drink order so I don’t have to do that dance again.

She makes me a little nervous, to be honest, because of these weird exchanges, so I just smile and laugh and try to be friendly.  She asked me point blank once, “Why are you laughing?”, while laughing herself then her eyes would look all around like a googly-eyed bobble head with a big grin.  Now she’s taken to calling me “Giggles”. Giggles. And the other baristas have started writing it on my cup.

It’s gotten to the point now that I groan a bit inside when walk in and see her at the register. It makes me feel bad because I’m sure she’s a perfectly nice girl and she’s just trying to be friendly, but it makes me… uncomfortable, I guess.  It doesn’t feel flirtatious, it feels insecure, like maybe she’s shy and overcompensating. You know in movies where the nerd talks to the cool kid and says completely dorky things that sound cool in their head, but come out like they ate paint chips as a kid?  That’s usually me. I was always the nerd (at least in my own head), but this time, it’s like I’m the cheerleader or the football jock or whatever and she’s about to ask me to homecoming.

I hope she doesn’t read this blog, though it’s entirely possible.  I ran into a girl I’d only seen on Flickr at Bath & Body Works once.  And a girl at the grocery store asked me if I was Tenth Muse a few years back. So, its totally possible and I really wouldn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.

It’s so odd. I’d be flattered if it didn’t make me feel like she might boil my bunny.

When I pulled into the drive-thru Starbucks this morning, it looked like gridlock on the 405, so I parked next door and decided to walk in.  On my way past the front door, I was greeted by an extremely fragrant hobo and his hobo wife, Nadine. I only her name is Nadine because she put out her foot when I approached and said through the handful of rotten teef she had left (and I do mean teef), “I’m Nay-DEEN and nobody done passes Nay-DEEN without good mornins.” Her accent is probably charming… for the lead singer of a jug band, but I could barely understand her.

So, I went around her, but said good morning anyway. Eau du Hobo stood up as I reached for the door, staring me in the eye while rummaging in a bucket.  I got a little worried for a split second, but then he produced a half-eaten roll of Mentos that looked like it had been run over by a car a few times.

“Look at you!  You are a Golden Goddess of Venutia!” as he waved the Mentos around.  “You are a vision, a Venutia vision!  Look at her, NAY-deen!  She’s a Venutian and I’m just a big ugly alien!  Aren’t I, NAY-deen? From Maaaaarrrrrrrrs!”

Insert big stinky hobo grin here.  Then he offered me a Mentos.

I smiled… I couldn’t help it!  I declined, of course, but I smiled. I mean, come on!  An employee came outside on the tail end of that exchange to tell Smelly and Nadine to move it along because their cart was blocking the doorway and as I followed her back inside to get in line, she turned around and said, “Nothing like an ego boost first thing in the morning, huh?” with a wink.

By the time I got back outside, Stinkpot and Nadine were gone.  My coffee this morning was awful — they must have poured me the dregs of the pot, but the trip was worth it for the hobos alone. I just wish I’d given them my $2.25.