This morning, as my cloaked form swiftly darted between the shadows of Manhattan’s towers, I was suddenly stopped in my tracks; I had accidentally made eye contact with that most nefarious fellow, my nameless arch-enemy. Even after a year since our last encounter, his fiery glare betrayed his still-burning hatred for me.
It might surprise some of you that I actually have an arch-enemy. Others among you are probably wondering where to get in line to express your own burning hatred of me. If you’re one of those people, be assured I’ll get around to each and every one of you in due time. But the fact remains: I came into contact with HIM this morning. HIM works at Dunkin Donuts near where I work, and he is the only food industry employee I’ve ever gotten into a heated argument with. You see, he gave me a latte.
A latte.
But I didn’t order a latte. I ordered a large coffee. The same thing that I ordered from HIM every single weekday at the same time every single day for nearly eleven months. But, he argued in his oddly venomous voice, he very clearly heard me ask for a latte. We were fortunate that none of the witnesses to our tremendous clash called the police. And so, on that fateful morning when our special coffeemaker/consumer bond was bitterly snapped in two, we knew we would be forever locked together in hate and loathing. Although I was a loyal and dedicated Dunkin Donuts man, I walked out and never looked back — until our eyes met this morning, and he issued a defiant stare, as if to say, “Come in and order your pathetic coffee — and see what you receive!”
So, tempting fate, I pushed aside the heavy glass door and made my way down the narrow, Arabica-scented corridor. He smiled that I had accepted his challenge, baring his fanged and crooked teeth. I looked HIM dead in the eye, and said, “I’ll have a–” and then before he could react I quickly turned to his attentive coworker and finished with, “– large regular coffee, milk and sugar, please.” I smiled charmingly at the woman, who fastidiously gave me exactly what I ordered.
As I turned and left, my dark cloak swirling around me and fanning the smell of the fresh-roasted beans in my large coffee, I noticed him crushing the special latte cup he had been secretly concealing behind the counter. I smiled and sent forth a mirthless laughter that neither he, nor the other customers (especially the one with the baby), will ever forget.
Ah, the bitter scent of revenge.