Mario not Mario

I hate waiting for that penny...when I order coffee or something where tip jars exist, and my change is one penny.

It's no-win.

If I walk away: "Thanks for the tip, you cheap bastard."

If I wait: "Oh, here's your change, you cheap bastard."

The funny thing is, a one-cent tip just about covers the effort of handing me a self-serve coffee cup.

But that's another blog.

I'm also finished with giving my real name to coffee shop cashiers.

For those unfamiliar, I've always pronounced it: "Marry-oh."  It's an An-drea/Ahhn-drea sorta thing. Strictly preference. But apparently, once I leave the northeast region, I'm saying my own name incorrectly.

When I say "Marry-oh," baristas cock their heads like dogs at a Sonic Youth show.

-Barry-o?

I shit you not. I thought, really? BARRY-O topped the list on your mental quick-correct? Let's try again.

Mario.

-How do you spell that?

M-A-R-I-O

-Ohh, Mahh-rio.

Sure. My mistake.

One time, after going through this at the register, the girl making my coffee held up a cup and shouted: "I have a tall Americano in the window for MARIA!"

I just smiled and said: "MARRY-oh."

She replied: "Oh, I'm fine, how are YOU?"

Umm...

So now I'm Jack. You can't fuck up "Jack." Right?

That's what I thought until I used it recently: "I have a tall Americano in the window for JEFF."

Nice.