Tonight at The Restaurant (that hot, hip one where I work downtown) my energy started to flag.
"If you want a pick-me-up you should have a cup of coffee,” one of the servers suggested, waggling a porcelain coffee cup at me.
I was tempted. I gave in.
“Do you know that I never, ever drink coffee?” I said to her, pouring myself a steaming cup. Two other servers in the serving station turned to stare at me, shocked.
“What do you mean you don’t drink coffee? Like, you only have it once a day instead of three times a day?”
I laughed. “Well, I mean, I just never have it. Like, ever.”
I poured in cream and sugar (they told me that if I was hardcore that I would drink it black, but since I’m a newbie I decided I could doctor it up) and took a drink. Four sets of eyes watched me intently. I made an “mmmm” sound as I drank and the three servers nodded.
“You’ll be hooked in no time,” one said, grinning. I had visions of myself at Starbucks ordering four-dollar double tall super mocha latte thingies and I shuddered. But I finished the cup anyway. And I did perk up.
I think the coffee cult is trying to get me.
