Accept that your coffee will have cream and sugar but make him understand that he is an arrogant bastard for second guessing you and trying to teach you a lesson.

You attempt to stare down the guy but regards you as if you were a school boy about to throw a tantrum: mildly amused but not the least bit intimidated.  You could have been a daisy or a Nerf ball.

Besides, what were you going to do, hit him?

You clench your teeth and swallow your anger, which left a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.  You'd wash it down with the coffee, except THE GUY RUINED IT!

"Fine," you grumble and slap down the correct change on the counter.  You turn to leave, still seething, when the dude behind the counter says, "Ding!"

You stop and turn around.  You know you shouldn't, but you do, "What's that for?"

"What?  Nothin.'"

"No, you just said 'Ding.'  I specifically heard you."

The guy shook his head, "Nope."

By this time, your patience was so lost they might never be able to find it with a LoJack and some Bloodhounds.  You rise up to your full height (which was still about as intimidating as an oven mitt) and said, "Look, it ain't as though this place is packed and I misheard you.  It's freaking empty and I heard you say 'Ding.'  Now what gives?"

The counter guy sighs and rolls his eyes as if he is ashamed to be forced to deal with one so mentally handicapped as yourself, then he explains, "Ding!  I win."

"You win what?"

"This sparring session."


The guy motions between the two of you, "This verbal dual in which we both participated.  You backed down like a total puss so I win.  Ding!  Come back again, sir."

You wave your hands repeatedly in front of you, "No, no, no.  I didn't puss out.  There was no verbal altercation.  You behaved irresponsibly so I called you on your utter lack of responsibility toward your duties.  I win.  Ding!"

"Nope.  Not how it goes.  You don't win cuz you pussed out."

"Uh-uh, pal.  You were being a lazy, irresponsible counter jockey and I complained.  Now, properly vented, I am free to carry on with my day."

You flip him the bird and cry, "VICTORY!"

A smirk etched its way across the clerk's face.  He folds his arms and asks, "Oh?  What did you win?  A coffee you didn't want and will refuse to drink!  Ding!"

"I will drink it and I will enjoy it," you counter.

"Now you're a loser AND a liar."

You pull off the lid from your coffee cup and chug it down with an enormous grin.

The Tim Horton's guy, his smile ever widening, leans forward and cordially says, "Enjoy," and then whispers, "ding."

"Absolutely bogus!" you roar, "I demand a rematch!"

His eyebrows rise imperceptibly before he retorts with a nod, "You're a feisty one.  I like that.  Unfortunately, rematches are not allowed.  It's in the rules."

Furious, and with your blood pressure approaching the Stroke Plateau, you stab your finger on the countertop and demand a rematch.

"I don't know," he says, "my boss'll be here in about twenty minutes.  I can't have a bunch of cops and/or ambulances loitering around and taking up parking spots if your brain just explodes from all the frustration you're toting around right now.  Might I suggest yoga?  Or some Feng Shui in your apartment?"

"It's time to step up your game, punk."

"All right, what would you like, sir?"

You had the perfect comeback prepared for him when he intentionally screwed up your order, so grinning, you say, "I want a coffee, black.  No cream, no sugar, no sugar substitute or non-dairy creamer.  I want no flavors, specials, or value savings.  Copy that, sailor?"

"That's a tough one, sir.  Size?"


"What size would you like?"

"Uh," it wasn't as if he asked you the square-footage of the Louvre, but you were so caught off-guard by the question that your mind refuses to come up with anything, "I don't know."

The guy frowns and shakes his head, "I think I hear a 'Ding' coming on.  Shall I warm up the 'Ding' now so you can bring it home and gorge yourself on it later, when your emotional dismantling reaches its apex?"


"We're out of medium cups, sir."

"Aha!  DING!"

"No, that's not ding-able.  We are truly out of medium cups.  It's not a 'Ding,' it's a fact of life.  Here, I'll give you a large at no extra charge."

You hand over some more money and take the coffee from the dude.  You take a sip of the steaming, luscious brew and grin, "This is perfect.  Ding!  I win this round."

"Do you?"

"Of course, I got what I wanted and you kept your smartass mouth shut.  I win, obviously."

"But what about that first coffee?"

"Okay, so you won that round, but I totally got you back this last time."

"Did you?  I mean, you're gonna walk out of here paying twice for a coffee, plus being forced to choke down that revolting cup I brewed for you a moment ago.  And by the way, don't dump it as soon as you walk out.  We don't like litterers in this town."

The End

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