A Regular

I think I might be a regular.

There's a coffee shop very near my work and I occasionally pop in for a cup.  Well, lately it's been more than occasionally.  I probably stop by three or four times a week.  I usually visit the shop just after lunch and I always order the same drink - a large coffee, to go.  I've been doing this routine for nearly a year now, so I sure feel like a regular.  I think if I saw any of the baristas on the street I would recognize them.  Still, I wonder sometimes if they recognize me.  For all the times I've been in there at the same time of day, ordering the same thing, they still look at me like they have no idea what I'm going to say when I order.  Maybe the true regulars are the college crowd, slumped in overstuffed chairs, seemingly spending their entire day in the shop.  Maybe the "to go" customers can never really be regulars in this place.  Or maybe I'm over-analyzing it and they're just open to the possibility that I might order something new.

A week ago, I was wondering about this as I approached the coffee shop.  Maybe I should mix it up and try something different.  Maybe they've been waiting for me to see the light and finally order a mocha.  I imagine tears of joy running down the cheeks of the barista as she carefully makes my specialty drink, wanting it to be perfect.  No doubt as soon as I leave the shop she'll be texting the others, boasting that it was she who took the order.  I'm still wondering about this as I approach the cash register and it causes me to hesitate.  The smiling barista breaks the silence with a question, "A large coffee, to go?"

I guess I am a regular.