I’m at the Starbucks in the student union.

Barista #1 is a middle aged black woman with an accent.
Barista #2 is a teenage Hispanic student.

Me: “May I have a venti dark roast with room?”
Barista #1: “Sure. Hm, this is a refill so it will be 54 cents.”

I pull out my card.

Barista #1: “You don’t have 54 cents?”
Me: “Oh, I have a dollar. Here.”
Barista #1: “Good. You don’t want to swipe your card for such a small amount.”
Me: “Yeah, I’m bad about carrying cash…I should go to the ATM.”
Barista #2 (who is making the drinks): “Oh who carries cash anymore?! The only people who carry cash now a-days are drug dealers, banks, and Indians.”

Barista #1 gasps, and we both look at Barista #2.

We then look at the Indian woman¹ who was waiting for her drink. She’s glaring at Barista #2 as if he just bitch-slapped her child.

Barista #2 (to me): “What?”
Me: “I honestly don’t know how to respond to that…but uh, I’ll got to ATM later. Have a nice day!”

I snatched my coffee and limped away before any drama could start.

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¹ He was probably talking about Native Americans, but it was an odd comment because he was making a drink for an East-Indian.