Later On

A blog written for those whose interests more or less match mine.

Becoming a curmudgeon

with 4 comments

Maybe not yet, but I seem to be headed there. The cleaning lady broke my large coffee mug—no problem, I’ve broken things myself—and so today I went to Starbuck’s to get another large coffee mug. I found one I liked, and I asked the woman at the cash register, “Does this hold a pint?” She asked to look at it, and she looked at the label (which didn’t show capacity, I had already checked), handed it back to me, and say, “It holds a grande.”

“Isn’t the grande 16 ounces?” I said. “I thought the tall was 12 oz, the grande 16.”

She turned to the barista for help. He glanced at the mug and said, “Grande. Sixteen ounces.”

She said, “It’s 16 ounces.”

“Right,” I said. “A pint.” She looked confused, so I shut up and handed her a ten.

She rang up the purchase and I saw on the machine that my change was $1.47. So I handed her three cents, and she looked at it like a deer in the headlights. “So you can give me $1.50 in change,” I explained. She still look totally puzzled, but did it. I’m sure she thought I was running some sort of scam.

Kids today!

Written by LeisureGuy

21 June 2007 at 4:45 pm

Posted in Daily life

4 Responses

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  1. And get off my lawn! 🙂


    21 June 2007 at 4:56 pm

  2. Careful. That kind of reasoning, from the particular to the general, is how we end up with racism and crap.

    That kid, sure. But kids in general? Nah, they are our only hope, the only salvation we have from creeping curmudgeonism.


    Matt Hulan

    22 June 2007 at 5:23 am

  3. Good point, Matt. And, come to think of it, I have two highly exceptional grandsons who are kids today. 🙂 And for all I know, the young woman was in the midst of some personal crisis and simply not able to focus.


    22 June 2007 at 7:50 am

  4. Or more likely, and call me curmudgeonly if you wish—I was just crabbing about my old composition students, who had the collective IQ of several wooden mallets and a particularly dumb slug—she was scratching her head, much like we might do if asked to face the formidable system of old British money. You know—that’ll be 8 and sixpence, squire. Or I’ll raise your pound to a guinea, guv. That sort of thing. Her reaction would probably have been similar had you asked her for some castor oil for your rotary engine. In the end, we have the solace of being smarter and better informed. And I’m sorry, but that’s sufficient solace for me in the age of Paris *&^*&%ing Hilton as “news.”


    22 June 2007 at 4:16 pm

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