I swear this will be my last neurosis related to coffee. Since, according to readers, "real men" don’t drink (1) mochas, or (2) any coffee drink with a straw, I have had little excuse to go back to Peet’s Coffee. After all, we have our Capresso Impressa Z5 in the warehouse that makes a perfect cup of espresso every time. But it’s packed away for the move, so I hit the new Peet’s 50 yards from our warehouse for a cup of coffee.
For years now, I have given baristas a fake name since my name – Ami (pronounced like Tommy without the T) – is called out as "Amy" 99 times out of 100. So I give various names depending on my mood: I used to use Rob or Steve, but then realized I could save hours over the course of my life by giving a two-letter name like Ty or AJ. Sometimes, my fake names would cause problems if the cashier looked at the name on my credit card which would be vastly different, but if you’re dressed well, they usually assume you’re not using a stolen credit card.
This morning, a "gentleman" with silver dollar sized earrings in his ears and facial hair dyed multiple colors should have seen me waiting at the bar for no less than 5 minutes for my
coffee despite there being no line when I arrived; it should have been
obvious that the first drink would be mine. When finished, he called out my name: "Amy!". Not wanting to correct him because I don’t really care, he looked at me increduluosly and snapped, "You’re Amy?" After responding with just "Ami", his expression seemed to turn to disbelief as though I made up the pronunciation on the fly <g> in order to get a free coffee.
Perhaps there is a coffee kleptocracy that they are cracking down on, and I should not be so sensitive. But it’s espressos exclusively from the Capresso at our new store until there is regime change at Peet’s…