I used to be a strictly Starbucks kind of girl. Then in an effort to save money, I started buying coffee from the deli on the main floor of my office building. (If I really wanted to save money, I would drink the free stuff that comes from the machine in our office kitchen, but seriously, you have to have standards.) Then, just before Christmas, disaster struck. Without warning, or even a goodbye, the deli closed down. I needed a new supplier. Enter my shameful secret: McCafé.
It was perfect - a reasonably priced latté that I could purchase through a drive-thru window? What's not to love? Before long, I was hitting up the McDonald's drive-thru almost every weekday. (I know how fat that sounds, but a medium non-fat latté does not have that many calories, I swear.) The man working the register began to recognize me. The first time he greeted me with "Ayyy... two Splendas?" I panicked. I frantically texted my friend, "The man at McDonald's knew I wanted two Splendas with my latté without having to ask." She wisely responded, "Better find a new place to get coffee."
And for a while I did. But it wasn't the same. The coffee was never as good anywhere else, and the service was mediocre at best. And to be honest, I missed my cashier friend. Almost as much as I missed my mass-produced lattés. Slowly, I started making trips back to McDonald's. And wouldn't you know it, my buddy was thrilled to see me again (at least in my imagination). By now, he doesn't even have to ask anymore if I want Splenda. He just hands it to me with a stir stick.
Sure, some people may judge me for being Mickey D's most loyal customer, but I don't listen to the naysayers and all their saying of nay. To quote the theme song from Cheers, sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name. And by "everybody knows your name" I mean, "one guy knows what you want in your coffee." Close enough, am I right?
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