drive-thru | Unmotherly Insights

I found my mojo at the DD drive thru

I am one hot mama! Well, at least that’s what I thought this afternoon as I cruised through the Dunkin’ Donuts drive thru in my sleek, sexy, soccer-mom SUV.

The boy at the window didn’t take his eyes off me. It was flattering to the point of embarrassment. “Wow,” I mused to myself. “I’ve still got it.” Even with my faintly etched crow’s feet, sun-worn skin and all too noticeable forehead crinkles, this handsome young man was totally into me.

He stalled a bit before handing over my fat-free latte and vege flatbread sandwich. I was amused by his all too obvious attempt to delay my departure and giggled girlishly to his delight. Then he leaned out the window in a fetching pose, vaguely resembling a J.Crew catalogue model. I was breathless.

He languishingly passed me my receipt and held his hand over mine for several seductive moments as he gently released a few tarnished coins into my slightly dampened palm. “Oh, and by the way,” he nearly crooned, “There’s a website listed on the bottom of your receipt. If you wouldn’t mind, you can check it out and take a survey about your service today. We’re having a little employee contest.” His smile widened as he stared wantonly into my eyes.

I was stunned silent as the realization obliterated my cheshire-like grin. Wait a minute. You mean…this was…how dare he! My heart sunk to the bottom of my feet. His attraction, his attention, it was all…a ruse, a scam, a con to get me to fill out a survey on his behalf. What kind of competitive, sociopathic child would play on a middle-aged mother’s insecurities this way. I suddenly felt like Mrs. Robinson as she stood naked before her graduate or Amanda Wingfield in the presence of that charming gentleman caller. Dammit. I was old and foolish, and now I had to deal with the painful reality of both of those realizations.

I thought about doing him his requested favor and filling out that on-line survey. Oh boy, would I ever let him have it. I could expose his underhanded trickery, the way he cunningly preyed upon the weaknesses of women’s aging psyches. But then I flashed back to all of the speeding tickets I’d flirted my way out of as a young woman, and the dozens of extra bagels I’d been gifted by smitten elderly deli-men who’d been weakened by my come-hither head tilt and coquettish smile. What goes around comes around, I guess.

Still, it’s hard to come to terms with the whole aging identity thing. Deep down, no matter how old we get, we still want to feel young, vibrant and attractive. It’s easy to forget that when we’re running to and from school, work, and three grocery stores a day.

I’m not talking about being vain or superficial. But a lot of us women tend to disown or discredit that part of ourselves that longs for physical admiration.

The point here is this: It’s okay to enjoy feeling sexy. It’s even okay to remind your husband, lover or partner that you need a dose of positive reinforcement every now and then. It’s even okay to flirt with a kid who’s half your age at the drive thru, provided you realize that his provocative stare and alluring smile are probably more linked to his desire for a good tip or a rave survey review.

Lots to ponder as I blow out way too many candles on this, my 40th something birthdate.

There comes a time when all of us need to recognize that we are either certifiably insane or completely overwhelmed by life. My moment of recognition came yesterday when I pulled up to the Coffee Bean drive-up window to order a cup of Genmaicha green tea and found the window shut tight. I thought it odd. It was 4:00 in the afternoon. I knew they were open. I saw people entering and exiting as I sat, somewhat impatiently, and waited in my car for some tattooed teen to get back from his or her break and take my order. After several minutes I started to get really annoyed. Aren’t these people running a business? How thoughtless and irresponsible of them to leave a customer sitting outside all alone at the drive-thru window. I suddenly felt that my life depended on getting that cup of tea immediately. Yet forces beyond my control seemed to be conspiring to keep me from achieving my goal.

I honked. Quietly at first. Two short beeps. Just a gentle reminder that customers do drive up to order tea during business hours. Nothing. Then I honked a bit more persistently. They are deliberately ignoring me, I surmised with frustration. I pulled my keys out of the ignition and loudly clinked the metal key ring against the closed window. Still no one came. In total disbelief, I leaned back, took several deep cleansing breaths and gazed into the rear-view mirror to see how many other forlorn consumers would soon be sitting in my disappointed seat. Surprisingly there was no one in line behind me. All I saw in my wake was the giant menu board. You know, the one with the oversized microphone in it, the microphone through which a normal person would actually order their drink before continuing on to the pick-up window.

I was horrified. I had just sped right past the menu board. As if I’d expected some incredibly insightful barrista to simply intuit my presence and serve me the tea I had so neglectfully forgotten to order. I quickly looked around to see if anyone had seen me. How embarrassing. I wondered if they had a camera inside and were watching me, clutching their sides and gasping from laughter. I knew I should leave quietly and pretend none of it had happened. But I still really wanted that tea.

So I pulled around to the drive up menu board and stopped in front of it this time. A voice immediately welcomed me to the Coffee Bean and asked to take my order. The instantaneous greeting cemented my theory that they had seen me all along and were merely toying with me by not opening the pick-up window. But I wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of acknowledging my foolish gaffe. “I’ll have a large Genmaicha green tea, please,” I announced with aplomb. “Anything else?” he cordially querried. “No, that’ll be all.” I concluded. And with that, I drove on to the window to pay and collect my tea.

I wondered if anyone else had ever done anything as embarrassing as this. Maybe I was making too much of it. Maybe they hadn’t even noticed my silly mistake. Maybe I was just one more slightly stressed mom on the run who had simply forgotten how to drive thru a coffee house cue. I pondered the event as I raced towards school. Then suddenly I was struck with a horrible realization. I had forgotten the tea altogether. I remembered paying, smiling at the attendant, waving goodbye with good cheer. But I had never collected my tea.

OMG, something is seriously wrong with me.