White Lie... Confessions.

A couple of times a week I'll drop by the campus Starbucks to get a little pep juice. A few weeks ago I started to realize that there was more to my drinks than just caffeine. The good people working the counter had run out of the crayon-line tool they used for writing my name and drink order on the cup... now they used a bold SHARPIE. Every time I raised my cup to take a drink I also received a nose/head-full of Sharpie scent. Needless to say my coffee drinking enjoyment decreased greatly while the temporary high I was getting from marker inhalation was nauseating, numbing at best. Something had to be done. Simple solution right? Just tell the lady that it stinks and ruins the drink and to please not mark on my cup, right? Yeah, that would just be too logical for me. I chose the path less traveled. "Can I help you?" "Yes, I'll have a Carmel Machiato please." After she asked for my name she reached for the big sharpie and aimed it towards my empty cup. Crossroads...think quick Dathan! "Oh, Maam could you please not use a sharpie on my cup? I know it sounds silly, but I'm (pause) allergic to the smell." "Really?" "Yeah, I get pretty messed up when I come in contact with marker scents." "Wow, ok hun." You see, aparently I would rather misrepresent myself than just seem a little particular about my coffee. Smooth D, smooth. Since then, I've become somewhat famous at the small campus Starbucks. I'm told that the manager has been told of my "condition" and that the old crayon-like writing utensils have been ordered. New trainees are informed of my unfortunate allergy with careful instructions to use a ball point pen and that my name is spelled with a "D" and not an "N". Maybe I should come up with a condition get to the front of the line at Subway, or maybe I should just shut my mouth!