Tuesday, 1 March 2016

Pro Skateboards on Quinpool - A Lesson in Drink Order Shaming

This is not the Iced Hot Chocolate, but it is from Pro.
This is late, almost 8 months late to be exact,  so yeah, I guess you could file it under "old news", but it's just so good. It goes back to a blistering sunny day in the summer of 2015 when I found myself walking with my most reluctant partner in walking, Hayley Jean Parsons. It was just as I was purposefully transitioning from a person who drinks coffee to a person who is a pseudo-coffee snob, that is, I went off coffee in the most infuriating way I could think of: by kicking drip to the curb and very publically and deliberately waxing poetic on my inclination for only drinking espresso based drinks.  I still love watching people react to that sentiment. It's the kind of uncalled for pretension that makes people squirm, especially baristas.

On this particular day, I was trying to stay off all forms of caffeine, so going to a café was my first misstep, but I was also too damn hot, a sensation I fucking hate, so I needed something chilled and refreshing.  Without overthinking, or thinking at all, I ordered the first thing that came to mind:

"An Iced Hot Chocolate, please."

Oh no. What did I just say? Everyone is looking at me. Was that a bad order? What does that order even mean? What the fuck is an Iced Hot Chocolate? And then the girl serving us, who I actually really enjoy , gave it to me straight:

"So... you want a chocolate milk then...

Boom. I had just been verbally sucker-punched in my ego's boob. Oochie wah wah. No. No, no, no! I don't want a freaking "chocolate milk"! I want the drink I made up, and I want nobody to say a word about it. I could feel my fingers tighten around the edge of the hardwood counter, but as much as I pulled, I could not for the life of me flip it over to properly showcase my boiling anger. There was a pause, I could see my little sister was starting to break, and I said through a stone cold grimace:

"Yeah, that's right... an Iced Hot Chocolate."


 Of course, what I meant was (you might want to turn up that volume for this one):



She knew, that I knew, that she was right, I was wrong, and we were both going to have to let it lie.

The chocolate milk really was a good choice, but it's the intangible things we took away from that day that are most important: a long-running inside joke between myself and Hayley, and for my server, a story of an idiot guaranteed to slay any crowd, at any party, from now then until eternity. And because this was more of a pride-based tragedy than a failure in flavor, beverage volume or anyone's manners, I am going to give that employee a 7 out of Harvey's. That's for calling me out on not knowing what the hell I was talking about and for giving me a much-needed (but definitely not appreciated) lesson in humility. It's something I can never not think of when I walk by, and it's something I know everyone involved will hold dearly for the remainder of their lives. #IcedHotChocolate. The most stupid fucking drink order ever placed. If Rachael Parsons would have been there, she would have killed me.*

*This is grossly exaggerated for comedic purposes, but the order was placed, verbatim. It sure was.

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