There is a coffee bar in our cafeteria. I go there every morning - and again in the afternoons if I am having a bad day - and I always chat with the baristas. We get on well.
They have a punch card system where you get your 11th drink free. Sometimes, there is a line and the two baristas are really busy, so I punch my own card.
Yesterday, I went for an afternoon coffee. There was no one else there, so Will and I chatted as he heated the milk. Just because I had nothing to do, I punched my card.
He gave me my latte, and moved to the cash register to ring it up.
As he pressed the buttons, he said:
"Do you need your card punched?"
"Oh no, it's OK," I said. "I already self served my hole."
As my tongue reached the "h" of "hole", my brain screamed "STOP!", but my mouth kept going.
To Will's credit, he said nothing, but he pursed his lips.
"I think I could've said that in a better way," I said, blushing.
And that's when he lost his composure.
We both giggled as he gave me my change, as I put some change in the tip jar and put my wallet back in my bag.
As I walked away, I wished him a good weekend.
"No problem!" he said. "Happy Self Serving!"
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