A tall tale
After waiting in line for a few minutes, I step up to the counter to place my order.
"BUENOS DÍAZ! What can I get for you?" she said, beaming an overly-exuberant smile. If she was older than 18, it couldn't have been more than a few days.
"Er, hi. I'll have a something-something-something capuccino please. To go."
Orders in hand, she starts to literally skip away to prepare my drink, but catches herself, realizing she has forgotten to acquire a critical piece of information.
"What size would you like?" she inquires, a gleam in her eye.
"Oh. Small, please."
"Oh yeah. We don't have that size. We have these." She helpfully points to the three demonstration containers. They are clearly labelled: Tall, El Capitán and El Presidente.
Slightly annoyed by this, I respond, "You see this small one? That's the one I want."
"But that's not 'Small', sir. That's 'Tall'."
"Tall? Tall as compared to what? There isn't anything less tall than the 'Tall' one, so I don't understand what makes that one 'Tall'."
I could sense at this point that the other patrons behind me were less than interested in this conversation and would simply rather be in front of the counter instead of me.
The gleam in her eye has vanished and has been replaced by a dull, fiery glow. "I'm not sure. They just call it that. Is that what you want?"
"That'll be $3.50. Can I get you anything else?"
In retrospect, I suppose they don't offer "Small", because none of the prices for their portions could be considered "Small" by any reasonable person.
The people and places depicted in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to real people or places is entirely coincidental. In other words: Starbucks, please don't sue.