My walk had brought me some two miles from home to East Grand Rapids. I could ride the bus directly home from here. I was in no hurry, I would get a tea at Starbucks and read awhile. By my watch it was 7:32, according to the timetable at the bus shelter, the bus I'd take home came at a quarter 'til every hour from now until ten. I would take the 8:45 home. Perhaps I would step into the grocery store and pick up a six pack before catching that bus? No, I had a couple last night. Best to avoid it, I decided.
Starbucks was right across the street from the bus stop, a matter of a hundred feet. As I came into view of the front window I recognized a girl I'd had classes with in my graduate program. This happens from time-to-time. I did not know her name, but vaguely remembered that our interactions had been pleasant. I am not one for any conversation that can be avoided, though, and as she hadn't seen me notice her I resolved to make sure I didn't notice her once I went inside.
I stepped through the door, the comfy chairs were all taken at the front, the only open table was toward the back by the cash registers. That's where I would sit. As I stepped to the counter the barista gave me the surprisingly-genuine smile of someone who works in a field where tips are not a given. "What can I get you?" She asked.
I leaned forward to get a better look at the tea selection, "I'll have a large tea, a hot one. Um, the last time I was in I had, let me see, the 'Zen'."
"And you'd like that this time as well?" She asked.
"Yes, please." At this, she turned around to retrieve my drink. I was quite looking forward to it. I'd had this tea, which as I recalled was a green tea with some citrus flavors and so on that made it more interesting than the stuff you get in a steel pot at the Chinese buffet. She came back to the counter with it, a big paper cup with a green sleeve and two teabags. She had neatly tucked the paper tabs on the end of the teabag strings under the lip of the cup. She was a professional. "That will be two sixty," she said.
I opened my wallet and pulled out two dollars, and then reached in my pocket and dug for two quarters and a dime. Exact change. I laid it on the counter, thanked her without tipping, I never do at coffee shops and feel bad every time, and turned for the little bar opposite where the cream and sugar live. This little bar must have a name, surely they spend a week on it at Starbucks manager training, but I don't know it. Two Splendas and a little half-and-half. I know, or I've heard, that you're not supposed to put half-and-half in green tea, but I have no use for rules regarding tea.
The empty table was close to the little nameless cream-and-sugar bar and I stepped to it, taking a seat facing into the room, back to a window on an alley. As I sat, I laid my book on the table and set my tea down. As soon as I took my seat and opened my book, I realized that my cup had developed one of those little drips that plague Starbucks cups. The page I'd opened my book to had a small wet spot. This would not do. I dabbed the tea from the page and stood to get some napkins.
All at once, and I have no idea how this happened, my tea fell over with great force. I had not taken so much as a sip. The entire thing.
I was lucky, it missed me and only a little hit the cover of my book. I ran for the napkins, I have great concern for my books. I dried it, no problem. But there was still what seemed to be a gallon of creamy tea everywhere. No one had noticed, apparently, save a white-haired woman at the table over who helpfully got the smiling barista's attention. I felt badly now for not tipping. The barista handed my a wet cloth and I swabbed down the table and one chair that had been soaked. Then another barista, this one a young guy with a great beard and a really relaxed bearing, came out with a mop. I apologized.
"No problem man, happens all the time," he said. And he meant it. As he mopped the spill, I began to wonder if the'd comp me a new one. They do that, right? I wasn't going to bring it up, but in the past when either I or someone in the room with me has spilled something, even a beer at a bar, they've usually gotten a new one. I didn't. Strange. I wondered if it was Starbucks' policy, or if it was because I hadn't tipped.
I was certainly not going to order another tea. I would go home, watch a movie. I checked my watch, 7:45, but the bus was usually late, and it was tonight. I beat it across the street, and the bus wasn't even in sight yet. It hadn't been there because others were waiting. I'd get some beer at the corner store when I got home, I decided. No tea, a big mess. But I could save it.
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