THE USUAL
Is anyone else embarrassed by a routine?
I frequent a coffee shop near my workplace. Not every day, but a few times a week I wander over and get a tall single latte and, often, two citrus almond biscotti. Not too long ago, one of the baristas looked up and saw me at the counter. "Your usual?" she asked.
My usual?
I almost fell over with embarrassment.
Yes, I always order the same thing, but someone noticed it and dubbed it my "usual"? Oh man.
I meekly assented as she turned her back to make a tall single latte, no sprinkles.
After that, I'd walk to the shop hoping there'd be a different barista on duty — one who'd ask my pleasure as though I might say anything at all. One who didn't have me pegged. A double iced Indonesian, for example, or a chocolate egg cream.
Probably half the time there was a different barista and I felt OK — unconstrained — ordering my usual. But then, another day, there she'd be. Recently, before she could say "the usual?" I blurted out, "I feel funny ordering the same thing all the time." She just waved her hand and said, "There's nothing wrong in knowing what you want."
I took some comfort in that, but nevertheless ordered a peach scone instead of the two biscotti — just to put her on notice that my usual could become unusual at any moment. I could throw her a curveball. She'd better be ready. But as I left the shop with my peach scone, my soul was crying for the biscotti. And, who was I kidding? I might bring myself to vary the snack, but I wasn't going to budge on the single tall latte. I would still have a usual — just a usual with insignificant variations. She knew it and I knew it.
And I also knew that she undoubtedly fixed "usuals" for people all day long, some maybe twice a day for years running, and no one batted an eye. The usual was usual.
The usual is even sort of enviable. I remember watching old movies and being impressed when the bartender knew a customer's usual. It denoted a familiarity, a special relationship, a belonging.
So why do I have a keen sense of embarrassment about being someone with a usual?
posted by kc @ 3:07 PM
5 comments
5 Comments:
Hmm. Halfway through I was going to suggest the very idea you finished with. So, instead of that, here is another. To some extent, there is a limit to how much mental effort we can—or at least will—make in a day. Mental fatigue limits us just like physical fatigue does. So instead of pondering the drinks choices every day, you have found a drink you like and stick with it. The mental resources you save by avoiding pondering that choice might be the very ones that you use to create you word list and look up etymologies. There is nothing usual in an abiding interest in word histories.
I always have usuals. There's a Mexican restaurant I've been to dozens of times and only ever ordered one thing. At the local sports bar, the bartender starts making big margaritas for my mom and me as soon as we walk in. I don't feel any need to arbitrarily switch things up if I'm happy with what I've been getting.
I'm embarrassed by it, too. I don't know why.
Hey, kc, can you sign me up to get all the comments and posts on your blog? I keep forgetting to check it!
Well, I think you just need to believe what you wrote in the penultimate paragraph: "The usual is even sort of enviable. I remember watching old movies and being impressed when the bartender knew a customer's usual. It denoted a familiarity, a special relationship, a belonging."
Being identified by the person who serves you feels great to me. I mean, they get to see so many people everyday, and if they remember my face among all those faces, and even know what I like, I'd be really proud of it.
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