Yet another otherworldly Irish experience today. Hubby and I decided on a quick coffee in Starbucks (except that in my humble opinion, coffee is the disgusting, evil drink of the devil, so I had a hot chocolate). When we finally got to the end of the line (why do you have to queue for everything here - every single ATM machine has at least ten people in the queue - I never understand that, it’s just: cash please, okay then put your pin in, how much do you want, and there’s your money - how long can it take?)
Anyhoo, as we got to the front the nice smiley Starbucks man (Lithuanian at a guess) told the lady he’d bring her order over and then added, with a winning smile: ‘you wan leave space for me?’ Well, she looked at him with a strange expression, and - just in case - asked him to repeat what he’d just said. Once again, with a cheery smile, smiley Starbucks man said ‘you wan leave space for me?’. Hubby and I were both fascinated and horrified. We did that married couple thing of raising our eyebrows at each other, then turned back to watch the fun - what was this, a dodgy attempt at a chat up line in front of a queue of people? What next, a sneaky pinching of your bum with every cappuccino? The poor lady, who was now a fetching shade of scarlet, and the poor Starbucks man, who obviously wasn’t going to get lucky, stared at each other until, suddenly, the penny dropped. At practically the same time all three of us in the queue went ‘ohhhh, you mean: do you want me to leave space for MILK’! Yes, nodded eager Starbucks man gratefully, and everyone gave a huge collective sigh of relief.
Disaster averted, I ordered my hot chocolate and hubby ordered his coffee, swiftly adding ‘and yes, can you leave some space for milk please’ before an awkward chat-up type moment occurred again, this time with possibly worse consequences. Phew.