So you wanna be a regular?

Some guy named Johnny tells us what it takes to be a regular.

I’ve always wanted to be a regular.

I walk into my local coffee shop, the barista’s face brightens with friendly recognition, and I hear the words I’ve always craved to hear.

“Johnny! The usual?!”

This is how your baristas should look at you as a regular.

Some people wanna be President. Some people wanna be an astronaut. I just wanna be a regular.

I mean, how fucking cool is that? “The usual?!” Fucking right I’ll take the usual, Tim. Or was it Jim? Shit. It’s too late in our relationship to ask. I can only hope to hear his fellow barista drop his name while I eavesdrop near the espresso machine. But it’s not about Tim (or Jim) here. It’s about me. I’m the regular. I’m the big shot on campus.

“Johnny! The usual?!”

I give him a coy smile, “You know it!”

I scan the coffee shop to see if anyone has noticed how cool I am. I silently wonder how many of these losers have a “usual”. But I already know the answer. None of them. Cause they’re not me.

I finish scanning. No one has seemed to notice. Or at least they’re pretending not to notice. The jealousy is palpable. I just know they’re concocting plans on how to be the next regular. A bigger regular than me. I won’t let that happen. Not on my watch.

You may be thinking to yourself, What’s it take to be a regular, Johnny? Please tell us your secrets! And while I certainly won’t divulge all of my secrets, here are two (you’re welcome in advance).

Number one: cool t-shirts. No, that’s not a joke. Cool t-shirts aren’t a fucking joke. Cool t-shirts are key. And I have many. As a burgeoning regular, you need to be recognizable in some way. And you need to be recognizable in an interesting way. My cool, interesting t-shirts are exactly that. Not only are they aesthetically pleasing (and really cool), but they’re great talking points. You can’t even think about becoming a regular until the baristas start having conversations with you. And not conversations where they exchange quick pleasantries with you and move on. I’m talkin’ about conversations that hold up the line behind you. You should be able to turn around and find a long line of non-regulars sighing, rolling their eyes, checking their watches in indignation. And then you should be able to look back at your barista and see that he doesn’t give one flying fuck about that line. He cares about YOU, and only you. You are the regular. They are just peasants.

Example of one of my awesome t-shirts. Get your own.

Number two: don’t always order the usual. Weren’t expecting that, huh? Mind blown? Good, it should be. Every cell in your body and mind is telling you this can’t be true, that the whole purpose of being a regular is to order the usual. Well, your body and mind are wrong. Every now and then, throw a wrench in the barista’s coffee grinder. Fuck up their mind a little. The moment you order something different is the moment they’ll remember you forever. They’ll think, This guy takes risks. This guy is comfortable with the uncomfortable. This guy FUCKS.

This is how your barista should look when you don’t order your usual. Keep them on their toes.

So there you have it -- your starting off point to a successful, joyful life as a regular. The rest is up to you. I can’t teach charisma. You either have it, or you don’t. You’re either a regular, or you’re not.

As I sit at my usual table (the best table in the shop), sipping on my usual drink (cappuccino, what else), reading Tolstoy or Dostoevsky (yeah I have great taste in literature too, go figure), a guy in his late 20’s strides into the shop with unearned confidence. He’s wearing a t-shirt that I know he thinks is cool, but objectively isn’t. I haven’t once see this guy in here. There’s just no fucking way he’s a -

“Brian! My man!! The usual?!”

FUCK.