macho mocha man

so there is this guy who has started coming to the coffee house regularly... he is always wearing a camo jacket that reminds me of the concept "deep woods". my assessment of this man is that he really enjoys his coffee house beverage--this evidenced by his frequent returns. but he is apprehensive about his appreciation for a beverage whose name is kinda of frilly and not pronounced in "ing-lish". so he suppresses his affection in the same manner every time i see him. he pretends to not remember what it is he ordered last time but it was good.

every time this guy comes in it's the same dialogue.

cam-bo: do you remember what i had last time?
me: (stares blankly, resisting desire to be blatantly irritated)
cam-bo: it has coffee and whip cream (yes whip, not whipped) ... maybe it's chocolatey...
cam-bo's friend: a mocha?
cam-bo: ok, sure. make that. a big one. (flippantly)
**and just as i turn to start making this mocha that i never would have anticipated, he says,
cam-bo: and why don't you throw some butter rum in there, too
me: *nods*

it's every time! same feigned unawareness, same flippancy, same damn drink. dude, just order it! i should inform him that drinking espresso stopped threatening one's masculinity years ago, that it's like a contest now. stop acting like you don't value your 20 oz. butter rum mocha enough to learn the words. just order it and drink it and shut up! in addition to adding the "afterthought" of butter rum, he usually has to do a few more chest pounds by saying something to the effect of "or how about some real rum!" oh that's original! next time i should ask him if he wants malibu... that's a real man's man kind of rum! anyway, i just want him to accept his desire to drink something called a cafe mocha and profess it with pride. it's not shameful. i also want to tell him that it's kind of wussy of him to only get two shots of espresso, but that's a bit much.

my very favorite part of this routine is that i also pretend not to remember what he orders. i just stand there and stare at him waiting until he works it out. he stumbles through the monologue like a high school intro theater student, so intentionally timed that it comes off like a home-grown commercial. and i wait. when people irritate me i try to not let them get any impression that their beverage preference is significant enough for me to remember. i'm kind of a bitch like that. but come to think of it... i only do that to cam-bo. he bugs me.