I love coffee, you need to know this about me.
I have a cup in the morning on the way to work, and by cup I mean a sturdy metal travel mug that hold 16 ounces that lasts the 40 minute commute to work. My employer stopped buying coffee for the employees to cut costs and there aren’t enough people who drink coffee for a “coffee club”. So in order for me to get my caffeine fix, I bought a French press to have a second cup at work, sometimes a third.
For Christmas, I received a few Starbucks gift cards. I downloaded the Starbucks app for my iPhone and put them on it, thinking I would quickly use them up on a few Venti Skinny Caramel Lattes. If you haven’t used the Starbucks app, it tracks your purchases which earn bonuses for something or other. Every purchase is a point, represented by stars. 5 for the first level and 30 for the last. It tweaks the part of my brain that makes we want to collect every single stupid coin in Mario Bros. So when the gift cards were used up, I reloaded it with another $10.00 just to earn a few more stars.
Then I thought to myself, “This is silly! I’m spending money that should be used for much more important things than froofy coffee. I’m 40 years old! I should be a little more fiscally responsible! After this $10.00 is spent, I’m done! I swear!”
And then it happened.
“Good Morning! Nice to see you again!” greets the barista. “I’m so sorry,what do you usually get? I forgot.”
She knew me. I was familiar. This is bad.
“Venti Bold” I reply. “You know, you get lots of people in here, I don’t expect you to remember every single one.” hoping to encourage her to forget me. I wanted to say, “Please, erase my face from your memory, I was never here!” and wave my hand like Obi-Wan Kenobi, but that would only cement me in her brain.
“I’m Tress.” She smiles a warm smile, waiting for a reply.
Ohno! She wants my name in return! Must... stall... her...
“Tess?”
“No, Tress. Like ‘Tress is a mess when she wears a dress’”
Shit. A Mnemonic. Now I’ll never forget it.
“What’s your name?” she asks.
Venti Bold. I am just venti bold. I don’t want you to know my name. If I tell you my name, I lose all my power. I am no longer just another consumer, I become a person. If I become a person to you, someone whose name you know, we have a bond. A bond that begs for some sort of maintenance. Maintenance in the form of coming in once or twice a week and spending money I don’t want to spend. So just call me Bold, Venti Bold.
“Walter. Like Walter will falter if he wears a halter”
Why on Earth did I say THAT!? There is no way she’ll ever forget me now after something as stupid as THAT! The image of a chubby bald guy with a beard in a halter top is just too powerful!
“Nice to meet you Walter.” and I got that smile. The one that is more than professional but less than flirtations. The friend smile.
Young Capulet wondered about the whole name thing. “What’s the big deal? It’s just a name.” Well Missy, I’ll tell you what the big deal is. Names hold power, big power. Once you have been given a name, you have a personality. Why do you think farmers refuse to name the pigs they slaughter. Why does your mother tell you not to name the stray cat that begs for food at the back door? Because once you name it, you have the capacity to love it. The smartest of charities figured this out long ago. instead of telling you about the village of starving children in Africa, they tell you about Angelina. Angelina the 8 year old girl whose mother died of AIDS two years ago. Angelina, who has taken to begging in the streets to feed herself and her 6 year old brother, Michael. Angelina, who can go to school and get a decent education and three square meals for just the price of a cup of coffee a day, a venti bold cup of coffee to be exact. The kids on Africa are sad, but Angelina? You know her, it’s personal.
The opposite holds true as well. It’s so easy to hate “them”, the anonymous masses. You can name “them,” but it’s not the same. You can hate the “Tea Party” or “Raven’s Fans” but learn the name of a Tea Party supporter and its suddenly a little harder to hate them. They are no longer just a member of a group, they are unique. Now that you know their name, you can find a common ground. Maybe you both like True Blood. Maybe you both knit. Maybe you have kids in the same school. Maybe you are both concerned about how close the bus stop is to Main Street, and how fast the cars are going when the kids are dropped off. Maybe, but how would you know?
Next time you shake hands with someone new and introduce yourself, you are giving them an opportunity to see past all of their misconceptions and think of you as a person. Every time you learn someones name, you have an opportunity to strip away all the labels you initially gave them until you are left with just one. The one their parents gave them shortly after they took their first breath.
“Hi, my name’s Walter. What’s yours?”
I have a cup in the morning on the way to work, and by cup I mean a sturdy metal travel mug that hold 16 ounces that lasts the 40 minute commute to work. My employer stopped buying coffee for the employees to cut costs and there aren’t enough people who drink coffee for a “coffee club”. So in order for me to get my caffeine fix, I bought a French press to have a second cup at work, sometimes a third.
For Christmas, I received a few Starbucks gift cards. I downloaded the Starbucks app for my iPhone and put them on it, thinking I would quickly use them up on a few Venti Skinny Caramel Lattes. If you haven’t used the Starbucks app, it tracks your purchases which earn bonuses for something or other. Every purchase is a point, represented by stars. 5 for the first level and 30 for the last. It tweaks the part of my brain that makes we want to collect every single stupid coin in Mario Bros. So when the gift cards were used up, I reloaded it with another $10.00 just to earn a few more stars.
Then I thought to myself, “This is silly! I’m spending money that should be used for much more important things than froofy coffee. I’m 40 years old! I should be a little more fiscally responsible! After this $10.00 is spent, I’m done! I swear!”
And then it happened.
“Good Morning! Nice to see you again!” greets the barista. “I’m so sorry,what do you usually get? I forgot.”
She knew me. I was familiar. This is bad.
“Venti Bold” I reply. “You know, you get lots of people in here, I don’t expect you to remember every single one.” hoping to encourage her to forget me. I wanted to say, “Please, erase my face from your memory, I was never here!” and wave my hand like Obi-Wan Kenobi, but that would only cement me in her brain.
“I’m Tress.” She smiles a warm smile, waiting for a reply.
Ohno! She wants my name in return! Must... stall... her...
“Tess?”
“No, Tress. Like ‘Tress is a mess when she wears a dress’”
Shit. A Mnemonic. Now I’ll never forget it.
“What’s your name?” she asks.
Venti Bold. I am just venti bold. I don’t want you to know my name. If I tell you my name, I lose all my power. I am no longer just another consumer, I become a person. If I become a person to you, someone whose name you know, we have a bond. A bond that begs for some sort of maintenance. Maintenance in the form of coming in once or twice a week and spending money I don’t want to spend. So just call me Bold, Venti Bold.
“Walter. Like Walter will falter if he wears a halter”
Why on Earth did I say THAT!? There is no way she’ll ever forget me now after something as stupid as THAT! The image of a chubby bald guy with a beard in a halter top is just too powerful!
“Nice to meet you Walter.” and I got that smile. The one that is more than professional but less than flirtations. The friend smile.
Young Capulet wondered about the whole name thing. “What’s the big deal? It’s just a name.” Well Missy, I’ll tell you what the big deal is. Names hold power, big power. Once you have been given a name, you have a personality. Why do you think farmers refuse to name the pigs they slaughter. Why does your mother tell you not to name the stray cat that begs for food at the back door? Because once you name it, you have the capacity to love it. The smartest of charities figured this out long ago. instead of telling you about the village of starving children in Africa, they tell you about Angelina. Angelina the 8 year old girl whose mother died of AIDS two years ago. Angelina, who has taken to begging in the streets to feed herself and her 6 year old brother, Michael. Angelina, who can go to school and get a decent education and three square meals for just the price of a cup of coffee a day, a venti bold cup of coffee to be exact. The kids on Africa are sad, but Angelina? You know her, it’s personal.
The opposite holds true as well. It’s so easy to hate “them”, the anonymous masses. You can name “them,” but it’s not the same. You can hate the “Tea Party” or “Raven’s Fans” but learn the name of a Tea Party supporter and its suddenly a little harder to hate them. They are no longer just a member of a group, they are unique. Now that you know their name, you can find a common ground. Maybe you both like True Blood. Maybe you both knit. Maybe you have kids in the same school. Maybe you are both concerned about how close the bus stop is to Main Street, and how fast the cars are going when the kids are dropped off. Maybe, but how would you know?
Next time you shake hands with someone new and introduce yourself, you are giving them an opportunity to see past all of their misconceptions and think of you as a person. Every time you learn someones name, you have an opportunity to strip away all the labels you initially gave them until you are left with just one. The one their parents gave them shortly after they took their first breath.
“Hi, my name’s Walter. What’s yours?”
Shelley--so glad to meet you. :)
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