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The barista who remembered my order, but not my name
Been going to the same shop on 5th and Main for about 8 months. Every Tuesday I grab the same cortado with oat milk. One slow afternoon the barista, Carlos, hands it over and says, 'You're the guy with the gray notebook, right?' He got the drink perfect but mixed up my face with someone else. That stuck with me. How we pay attention to the rituals, not the people. Has anyone else been sized up by their order and not who they are?
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