I was meeting two of my best girlfriends for a rare, but treasured, morning at the local coffee house. We had premium seating, so we decided to order in shifts so as not to loose our comfy chairs and couch.
When it was my turn, I considered varying my order, but when it came down to it, I couldn't resist my usual: non-fat, extra hot white mocha. I returned to the girls to chat while I waited for my drink to be made. A few short moments later, I heard the barista call out a drink, but didn't catch what it was. Thinking the timing was about right for it to be mine, I headed up to the counter. There was a kind looking older gentleman waiting there for his drink. I asked him if he heard what the drink sitting on the counter was. "Something with a lot of words," he replied with a smile.
I laughed and said, "Well, it's probably mine, then." I hesitated for a moment because I wanted to verify with the barista before taking the drink. I turned back and commented, "I just want to make sure it's mine...I don't want to take it if it belongs to someone else."
"It was something with 'white' in it," he offers, helpfully.
"Yep. That must be mine. Thanks." I say with a smile and return to my seat, beverage in hand, to enjoy the morning with my girls.
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