The Barista
Whether it's green juice or coffee or turmeric lattes, every New Yorker has a go-to drink to start the day. So when you have your regular spot, you tend to engage with a select few that work there. They brighten your day, and you brighten theirs, which is great in a city that makes you weary of the world. The small talk develops into a rapport, and then you get to know each other a little bit more.
Maybe you mention that your friend is a publicist, or maybe you bring up that time you met a famous actor because your aunt is a producer, or maybe you mention that friend of yours that's a writer for a publication. That's when their ears perk up. Because you know they're not in New York City to pursue their lifelong dream of slinging protein smoothies or CBD cold brews.
They'll press you for your number, or at least your email so that they can link you to their shitty Soundcloud or send you a copy of their god-awful screenplay to pass along to one of your friends. And to avoid any future awkward interactions, you switch from Juice Press to Pressed Juicery, or from Starbucks to, well, the Starbucks across the street instead of sticking up for yourself because the guy clearly took advantage of you and put you in an awkward position. And worst of all, your sanctimonious rants about feminism and reposting Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez quotes about not being taken advantage of by men on Instagram are null and void because you can't even handle telling a guy "No" when he took advantage of your kindness so that he could become the next Lin-Manuel Miranda or whatever.
[Photo via @baristadaily]
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