I came for a latte but left with three new BFFs
How did I go for a cup of coffee and end up with three new BFFs? After a long day of Week 4 lectures, I decided to stop by Dutch Bros for a little pick-me-up. But what began as a 10-minute errand quickly turned into a many-more-minutes nightmare.
While I waited in the drive-thru line at Dutch Bros, an employee suddenly materialized outside of my car window, scaring the bejesus out of me. I could only guess that she crawled out from underneath my idling car.
“Suh, girl! Welcome to Dutch Bros! What can I get you? How about a Big Gulp-sized javarooni? What kinda brewski you like? Into a little black juice? Okie dokie, one 32-ounce Unicorn Blood Frost with extra whip cream and confetti sprinkles for you, sis,” she said, staring into my soul. After “taking my order,” she handed me a pad, which asked me if I wanted to leave a tip. The answer selections were “Yes” and “I hate puppies.” I told her that I couldn’t possibly make that choice.
“Let me help you with that, sis” she said. “Alright, you just paid $24.50. Do you want to hear the joke of the day?” After I told her no, she proceeded:
“How am I like a cup of coffee?” Silence. “I’m hot and cool. Wanna hear yesterday’s joke of the day?” But I didn’t hear her, because I proceeded to drive to the drive-thru window, where baristas gyrated to ‘90s country music and made faces as they prepared coffee.
“Is that a Hanson shirt?” asked the drive-thru barista, pointing to my Houston T-shirt. “I love Hanson. What’s your favorite Hanson song? My favorite Hanson song is ‘Mmmbop.’ ‘Mmmbop, ba duba dop.’ What’s your blood type? Do you want to share my sucker?” she said, inserting her lollipop-clutching hand into my car.
I managed to pry my coffee from her other hand and leave before she could touch her sucker to my face.
“Wanna see my new dermal piercing?” she shouted as I drove away. “Where do you live?”
“I had 17 shots of espresso. I’M WOKE!” said one barista, standing uncomfortably close to the drive-thru exit. “I have hiccups in my heart.” In my rearview mirror I could see the baristas walking after my car with their arms extended. They clawed at my back window, growling.
Written by: Jess Driver — jmdriver@ucdavis.edu
(This article is humor and/or satire, and its content is purely fictional. The story and the names of “sources” are fictionalized.)
