Au Naturale

Coffee shops in this area understand their responsibility to serve the un(der)caffeinated population as quickly and efficiently as possible -- if for no other reason than self-preservation: East Coasters in their natural state can be a particularly heinous lot...*shudder*

At the Starbucks near my office, the manager stands in front of the counter, Sharpie and stack of cups in hand, and takes orders the second you walk in the door...so by the time you pay, you're only a few minutes away from your fix. The Dunkin Donuts down the street from my house operates with lightning efficiency and only one cashier -- and still, on even a crowded day, you can be in and out (with a perfectly creamed cup of coffee the rough-equivalent-temperature of the sun) in a matter of minutes. It's a beautiful thing.

...unless the customers are complete morons.

I decided that a big cup of Dunkin Donuts coffee was necessary this morning, so I stopped on the way to work.

*****
Wait. You won't fully get it unless I pause to explain the store layout: The counter runs perpendicular to and is just left of the door. There's a 6 ft. long nylon barricade (like at the movies) parallel to the counter and about 3 feet back with two, bright-red, extremely helpful signs posted on it. The first (nearest the door) says something useful like "Please Step Forward" and the second says something even more useful like "Please Wait Here For Next Available Cashier." The general queuing pattern is that you walk in the door, proceed straight ahead along the outside of the barricade, turn left, take one big step forward to the counter, place your order and pay, get your steaming mug of happiness, turn left again (now traveling inside the barricade) walk back to the door, and you're outtie. It's like the Soup-Nazi...with cream and sprinkles on top.

Got it? Good... Now...where was I... Oh...right....
*****

I decided that a big cup of Dunkin Donuts coffee was necessary this morning, so I stopped on the way to work. There was a line extending from the far end of the barricade to the door, but this didn't worry me because the staff here are machines when it comes to getting you in and out. There's a man and a woman in front of me and they're chatting. There are 3-4 people in front of them. The line behind me is now out the door. It's all good. I can smell coffee. Happiness soon!

Suddenly, the woman in front of me looks up and grins and says something to someone behind me about "dutifully holding a place"...and five middle schoolish girls pile in front of me/us with the man and woman. Um...ok. That's fine. I'm patient. There's only three people ahead of them now, so that's cool...probably a group order, anyway. No big. I'm still standing at the doorway.

Another woman and three more girls come in and join the now-massive group in front of me. Ok, ahem, that's right up against the edge of rude, but fine...whatever. They're a happy, chatty lot with girly giggles and "do you know what you want?...I'm not sure what I want." And I notice that now, the last person before them is at the cashier station and we're all still jammed up in the doorway. They haven't moved up at all, even though the line in front of them has gone down.

Oh. Maybe I misunderstood. Maybe they're still waiting for more people and I'm queued up behind them like a dope. Doh! So I asked the man, politely (I thought), if they were in line and he said that they were. I said "Oh, ok...sorry. I just noticed the signs..." (gesturing vaguely to the shiny red directional signs and huge space in front of them) And he uber-sweetly (in that way that isn't really sweet at all) snides back "Well, yes...but it's not actually working that way." I smiled (or tried to) and said "Oh...ok. That's weird."

...but it's making me crazy. I want to move them. I want them to follow the signs. I want to fix the flow of this mess because the door keeps bing-bonging that it's open and it's open because they won't. move. up. The urge to fix this is killing me. I'm a natural organizer. I used to organize people for a living. You can't un-learn that, you know!! And I haven't had coffee. Clearly, I came here for coffee... The people behind me aren't in much better states of being...I can feel the tension mounting.

The very efficient cashier has now said (three times) "Can I help someone??" (Yes, people, that means you!) Ugh. They're going to the cashier's stand diagonally through the barricaded area... Diagonally! Is that what the barricade is for, folks? I think not... And...oh look: It's not a group order at all. They're going up in clusters... First the original woman...then the man and three or four girls...then the late-coming woman and her girls...oh, and this one is waiting for her mom...

Gah!

As the last group goes up, I shoot a pointed look at the man (who's been milling around and making snidely apologetic -- in that way that isn't really apologetic at all -- comments to me the whole time) and I walk confidently -- dare I say defiantly -- to the sign that says "Please wait here for next available cashier"...and...I wait.

Uh huh. See how I just did that? (...because it can actually work that way)

And the entire queue follows me. And, in my head, the whole line breathes a collective sigh of relief because everything's working correctly again and the universe has been righted and we can get our coffee in the way that Dunkin Donuts intended: quickly and efficiently...with cream...and sprinkles on top.

Truth be told, I feel a little guilty for reacting so strongly to the whole situation. But I wasn't kidding: East Coasters in their natural state are a particularly heinous lot.