At a Starbucks

Courtesy of epzibah on Flickr.
We’d like to thank Bill Seybolt for this story.

Years ago, I left my laptop open at a Starbucks while I left to get my drink. When I returned, Bill Murray was sitting in front of my screen tapping away on the keyboard. I looked over his shoulder as he anonymously posted a number of stories regarding encounters with himself. They ranged from tackling others, stealing food and other fun oddities. When he finished, he closed my laptop, stood up, and looked me in the eye. Then he said, “No one will ever believe you” and walked away.

Summer 1985: Martha’s Vineyard

We’d like to thank Holly for the following story.

I was working as a waitress at a place that was half-deli/half- restaurant, so the wait staff used deli containers (the kind that potato salad comes in) instead of glasses to save the dishwashers work. So this one time, I’m chugging my first Coke of the day and in walks Bill Murray – totally unexpectedly.

He takes in the whole scene and then starts giving me total shit, “You’re drinking out of the deli container!? What is going on with you? You are wacky! I love it!” Then he asked for an espresso, which I happily made.

P.S. – A few years later, I stood behind him in line at WH Smith’s in Paris. He also looked at apartments in a Donald Trump building where I was temping. Love him.

A Perplexing Math Question

We’d like to thank Ali for sharing this story:

One time, I was sitting in the Intelligentsia Cafe by my house, struggling with a really involved proof that I just couldn’t get right. I’d been working for hours, looking pretty haggard and stressed out, not noticing anything or anyone around me, when suddenly someone leaned over me, snatched my pencil, wrote “converges to 1/e” near the middle of my work, crossed out everything below it, then wrote “QED”. Shocked (and elated, since it was true!) I looked up and saw Bill Murray staring down at me. “No one will ever believe you”, was all he said, and he walked away.

Bill Murray and the Whiskey Eggnog Latte

Earlier this week I was out shopping for Christmas gifts, when I decided to stop and get some coffee. Last Friday someone at work gave me a gift card redeemable at this particular coffee franchise (which may or may not have been Starbucks), and I planned on getting a plain coffee to go. After parking my car, I checked twice to make sure all of the doors were locked; the last thing I needed at this point was for someone to steal all the gifts I’d just purchased. I pulled the collar of my coat up in a feeble attempt to guard against the cold wind that swept across the parking lot, adjusted my wool hat, and quickly jogged into the warmth of the coffee shop.

Safely inside, my heart sank when I saw how many people appeared to be standing in line. After 7 hours of shopping, it seemed like everywhere I went there was a line to stand in. “So what’s one more?” I thought as I stepped up and waited behind a really worn out looking woman; her kids were, at this point, having a tug-of-war with the retractable belt barrier that organized the line leading up the the counter. She just stood there with a blank expression on her face.

“Shouldn’t be too long. They keep these lines moving pretty fast here,” I reassured myself while checking the time on my cell phone. This is, of course, unless someone gets really particular about their coffee order. Soy milk. A couple of ice cubes to cool it down a bit. Two shots of decaffeinated espresso in addition to the two caffeinated ones. Hazelnut syrup. No, wait. Caramel. Can I get both? Small, but put it in a medium cup with room. No, I’m not planning on making a ghetto latte. You need to restock the Splenda. That sort of thing.

I look ahead and it appears one man is causing the “barista” that very sort of hassle. “What do you mean you can’t do it?” the man asked loudly – more surprised than annoyed that the woman behind the counter was hesitant to accept an airplane bottle of Crown Royal and use it in preparing an eggnog latte. “I’m sorry. Can’t you just add it yourself afterward? I can leave room for it,” she offered as somewhat of a compromise. “No, it’s just not right unless you mix it in with the steamed milk first” he responded as he scratched his head. By this point another employee behind the counter blurted out “Wait a second! You’re Bill Murray, aren’t you!?” At that moment, everyone in the store turned to look at him. “Yeah. I guess I am,” he responded.

“Oh, well, in that case” the woman began as she took the whiskey from his hand. “I guess we can do it. Just this once.” She handed the Crown Royal to her coworker, who dutifully poured it into the stainless steel pitcher of steamed milk he already had prepared. “I really appreciate it, guys,” Bill Murray said, putting a $10 tip into their jar. “Even if word gets to your boss, its not like anyone will ever believe it.”