Although extremely wealthy trophy wives aren’t unusual at the coffeeshop, and although their drink orders are generally of the Sorority Girl Special camp, one woman coming from her pilates or spinning or yoga class today had a weird one.
Me: What can we get for you?
Trophy Wife: I want an iced latte.
Me: What size would you like?
Me: Do you have a milk preference? Skim, two percent, whole?
Even though these people come in every day, they never bother to give you their orders. I can’t tell any of these women apart, so I haven’t tried to memorize their drinks. They’re all 40, 5’6″, 100 pounds, wearing platinum wedding bands with 3 carat diamonds, and have had too much plastic surgery done on their faces. Some have dark hair, some have blonde, but they all look the same to me.
A second Trophy Wife has already ordered the same drink, only she wanted foam on top. That’s not too weird; there’s another woman who gets a cappuccino on ice because she likes the foam. No biggie. When the one I’m talking to notices it, she asks the other woman why her drink is “so pretty” and hers “never is.” The second Trophy Wife states smugly “I just tell them to put foam on it,” as if she’s figured out some wonderful secret and only she gets this pleasure.
The Trophy Wife I’m talking to then wanders back over and tells me to steam the milk. She then shouts it at Audrey, who’s working on the bar. Audrey looks confused. Because they’ve just had this conversation in front of me as if I didn’t exist, I know what the Trophy Wife is asking for. Or, I think I do.
Me: She wants some foam on top like the last one.
Audrey: Oh, okay.
TW: No! I want the milk steamed.
Audrey and I at the same time: Oh, you just want your latte hot?
TW: (obviously trying to remain patient with me because I’m clearly an idiot who doesn’t understand the simplest of orders) Noooo . . . I want the milk steamed and the drink over ice.
Me: (acting like it’s the most normal thing in the world) Okee doke! Just steam the milk and pour it over ice!
TW: (appalled that we’re so stupid) I don’t understand why you people don’t steam the milk for iced drinks. You do it for all the other ones.
Me: We’re just crazy like that.
A few minutes later, she comes back in the store and asks me for a cup full of ice, because, she says, all the ice melted in her latte! I happily prepare a cup for her. She goes back outside. Audrey and I discuss how much more important and intelligent the Trophy Wife is because she has a lot of money and we don’t.