You know what they say about people who drink a big latte…

I ran across this article today The Size Of Your Latte Has Everything to Do With Your Status at Work. It’s an interesting concept, and much akin to my mantra, “Dress for the job you want, not the job you have.” I like the idea that I can order a bigger latte, just for the sake of drinking it, but I actually don’t know that I agree with a lot that this article claims.

The funny thing is that even before seeing this article, I’ve contemplated this topic. When I see someone with a Venti latte, I wonder why they needed something so enormous. Did they not get enough sleep? Why didn’t they get enough sleep? If they aren’t sleeping enough and need to get a fake surge of energy, they are faking their productivity. Long term, they aren’t as effective as the person who just gets enough sleep. (Yes, I make that kind of leap).

But the article also talks about bigger portions. Drink a bigger smoothie? Order a bigger pizza? Maybe this works in Texas, but for me it’s a total power turn-off.

All through college, I worked in a cubicle for General Motors. On Saturdays, we would often cram together and work together because we could chat since it was slow. This guy, Bill, sat next to me for several months. Bill spent the day eating. And I don’t mean grazing a few snacks. He would down a family-sized bag of Lay’s potato chip, eat a foot long sub sandwich, and guzzle a 32-ounce coffee…all before 11am. And yes, he was enormous in a not-so-healthy way. All day, I had to listen to him rustle chip wrappers and lick his fingers. Don’t get me wrong, Bill was a cool dude and we laughed a lot…but he also grossed me out and his very verbal aspirations of management went completely unheard because he seemed to lack personal self-control (I regularly took a Wet Wipe to his workspace when he wasn’t looking). Every Saturday really felt like this:

At the exact same time, there was the Vice President, Bob (who rarely ever spoke to me, but when he was in the building we all knew it). Bob was tan and looked like a seasoned runner. He drove a brand new Camaro, and usually carried a water bottle. I have never forgotten that when he walked through the door, people moved a little faster. I never saw him with a gianormous coffee or a slice of pizza (and I was watching).

Maybe I’ve noticed these things because I’m a woman, and constantly analyzing and judging? I might have to get a Venti latte tomorrow just to see if people notice. What do you all think?

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