Creative Misspellings and Rude Introductions

"Hello sir," Frank Iero, favorite barista of a New Jersey Starbucks, greeted the man in front of him. He feigned a cheery outlook, bright eyes and a big fake smile.

"What can I get you?" He asked the red-haired man, who was talking loudly on the phone and seemed quite rude to whoever was on the latter end of the call.

"Mikey, I told you, get Ray over at our place in 20 minutes! No, we don't need Bob! I've got the equipment already! We don't need one!" He droned on, his eyes wide in anger.

"Uh...Sir," Frank said quietly, looking at the man with an uncomfortable look.

"Iced, half caff, ristretto, venti, 4-pump, sugar free, cinnamon, dolce soy skinny latte," He said all too quickly. Frank just inwardly sighed.

"Uh, sorry sir, could you repeat that? You were speaking a bit too fast," Frank asked a bit shyly. The man looked at him with eyes that read a simple, should I waste my time on you? Frank found it oddly charming.

"Mikes, gotta call you back. Difficult barista at Starfucks," He simply pressed a button and pocketed the phone. If he was going for Frank not being able to hear, he failed.

"Iced, half caff, ristretto, venti, 4-pump, sugar free, cinnamon, dolce soy skinny latte," He spoke slow, as if talking to a child who was yet to understand him. Frank looked over at his long time friend and fellow barista, Patrick, who gave him a sympathetic look as he filled a cup with coffee and some cream, or something like that. He couldn't really tell.

"Ah, alright. And your name?" Frank asked with his signature fake smile.

"Gerard," He said simply. Frank nodded and got to work on the drink as the man with the red hair sat down and took his phone out again. Frank got out a sharpie. It was his signature move to misspell the names of rude customers. See, Gerard was a name that could be considered fairly easy to spell. But he wrote, J-E-R-A-R-D on the cup in all capitols, in the messy handwriting he'd always had. He finished the drink and smirked inwardly. The man stood up and strode quickly toward him before he could call his name. He took the cup and seemingly inspected it.

"This is the third barista this week to spell it wrong!! It's A G! Not A J!!" He yelled, sneering at Frank, throwing exact change on the counter and storming out. Frank snickered and looked at Patrick, who had no customers at his station at the moment. Patrick laughed. "Did you really not know how to spell that??" He said, smiling that big grin he's had his entire life. "Of course I did! He was just an asshole!" Frank said, putting a hand on the counter to steady himself, considering how hard he was still laughing. He could see Gerard still stomping his feet out to his car in the parking lot. "Holy hell," he spoke quietly, stopping all signs of emotion all together as he saw an old white Trans-AM that the red-haired man was unlocking. He was gonna have to become friends with him. He wanted to see that car close up...

Notes