In my third week on the job, having just received my first paycheck, I felt financially secure enough to indulge in a decadent Starbucks coffee. As I made my way to the popular coffee chain, I stood in line, perusing the menu, searching for the perfect drink to satisfy my craving.
Cappuccino…Nope. Too strong for me.
Caramel Macchiato…Nope. No caramel for me.
Espresso…Definitely not! The ordeal in Canada with Harish and Chetan was still fresh in my memory.
Hot Chocolate…Hmmm…This sounds good.
When it was my turn, I confidently placed my order.
“I would like to order a small Hot Chocolate, please,” I said to the barista.
“You mean a Tall Hot Chocolate,” she replied.
“No, I mean a small Hot Chocolate,” I repeated.
“That’s the Tall size, sir,” she affirmed, a hint of frustration creeping into her voice.
“Okay, but I don’t want a Tall. That will be too big for me. Do you have anything smaller than Tall?” I asked, trying to avoid wasting an oversized drink.
“No, Sir. Tall is the smallest size we have.” she replied.
“Okay. Do you have any other drink in small then?” I asked.
“No Sir. Tall is our standard size for all drinks.” She replied, her irritation mounting.
The line of customers behind me was growing restless, and I could feel their impatience building. As I glanced around, I noticed a stack of small cups by the counter.
“There, that’s the size I want,” I pointed to the cups.
“Sir, that’s Tall,” she replied, her amusement evident.
“Okay, then I want Tall.” I said quietly, morbidly embarrassed.
I stood there mortified, realizing that I had made a grave error, and placed my order, quietly resolving not to make the same mistake twice. As I made my way to the pickup counter, I avoided eye contact with the customers behind me, feeling acutely embarrassed.
“Why…why…why? What is it between me and Starbucks that I have to go through it every time?” I thought to myself, frustrated and confounded as I walked out of Starbucks resolving not to visit it until I had grasped the slangs and nomenclature of the culture.
