No.  I want a medium.  In this large mug.

The man, anywhere between a handsome sixty or a forty-something-who-smokes-pack-a-day, held out that damn mug that he always brings in with him.  His mug and the silly punch card – the punch card is not the silly part, it is just that he is visibly upset every time he realizes it is not anywhere near his tenth punch to earn a free coffee— and I am pretty sure he looses his cards anyway.

But, here’s the thing.

No.  He literally once said No to this one guy, I think his name was Jason. He was on shift with me and he poured the coffee.

No.  He said.  This is a large.  In a large mug.  I want a medium.  In this large mug.

I swear, he said it just like that.

So he made that guy pour it out at which point I took it from him and poured the coffee myself.

Then he put a dollar in the tip jar.  Most of the regulars do, it is a friendly neighborhood and, you know, people have money over here— and this guy really should tip, anyway.

So no way, he’s been doing this for like a year now, he doesn’t come every day or anything, but everyone knows he wants a medium coffee in his large mug.

He still brings the same mug, of course.  At least, it looks the same.

Anyway, he like, cleaned himself up.  He was definitely a forty who smokes, and he definitely quit smoking.

So that guy on shift with me with, on his last day– oh my god how long have I been working here?– but that guy went up to the mug man and finally asked, like, Yo Man, what gives with the mug thing?

And no joke, the mug man told him.

And no joke, it made sense.

Anyway, I gotta get back to my shift, I’ll finish this later.