Coffee

My book club meets at the local Starbucks once a month. I often don't buy anything, but sometimes, I do. Today, I simply felt like coffee.

Starbucks' barista (SB): How can I help you?
Me: May I please have a tall coffee. I'd like 2/3 of it decaf, 1/3 of it regular, and enough room for cream, please. About an inch of room. [I held up my fingers to show her the space, just in case she didn't know what an inch actually was. Although the baristas at our local Starbucks seem to be pretty up on their math. Or so I thought.]
SB: Sure, that's not a problem. Why don't I put it into a grande cup and you'll have plenty of room for coffee and cream. If you're paying for the coffee, you might as well get it.
Me: That would be great, thank you. I never thought to ask for it like that.

The barista turns to grap a paper cup. She fills it part-way with either decaf or regular, I'm not sure, and then turns back to me.

SB: That's 2/3 decaf, right? I woudn't want to get it wrong.
Me: Yes, thank you.

She turns back to finish the drink while I stand in line, listening to the lovely music being piped in over the speakers. There is a crowd there today, probably due to the cold. The coffee will feel wonderful to my chilled body.

SB: Here you go. Have a great day.
Me: Thank you! And you, too.

I walk over to the sugar and cream kiosk and pull of the lid off my grande cup, which is filled to the brim, with coffee. More coffee than I paid for. But there is no room for cream at all.