Tall, skinny latte, extra hot, extra shot, to go

As I stand in line at the Starbucks near my office, like I do every morning before I arrive at my desk, turn on my computer and start pounding away, I wonder for the zillionth time, how did I get here?

It's been over six months since we moved to London and although I don't feel as if things have massively changed for Hubby and me since leaving France, I still sometimes marvel at the little things that have which we never expected would change. And my pre-office morning coffee run is the reminder of the biggest one of them all.

For the record, I didn't use to drink coffee before we moved. Or milk. Ever. Didn't care for the taste of the stuff.

The line inches forward a step or two and the friendly red-head at the counter greets me with a smile and a wink as he takes my order. In a few moments he's going to remind me again, like he does every morning, that I need to register my Starbucks card online to get the free points.

I have a Starbucks card.

I smile back and recite one of the first sentences that comes out of my mouth every morning with military precision: "tall, skinny latte, extra shot, extra hot, to go please". I sound like a pro. I probably have become a pro.

And that's the thing.

As funny as this sounds, saying this sentence out loud is the daily reminder of the amazing transition my life has taken since I started working in the City, as the historical and legendary business center of London is commonly referred to.

For the first time in my life I feel like a professional adult. It feels like I have the responsibilities of a professional adult and that I actually belong in the professional adult world (I bet if you look up "professional adult world" in the dictionary a big fat picture of the City will pop up). In Paris I often felt like I was pretending to be a professional adult. I loved my job and poured my heart into it, but I never really felt like I truly did belong in that world yet, I felt too young, too unprepared, too carefree.

When did I cross over from micheladas and diet cokes to skinny lattes and extra espresso shots? How is it that I now find myself talking about turnovers and headcount budgets and accruals and know what I'm talking about?

I look around me to my fellow caffeine addicts in line. The middle aged man in an impeccable suit and cufflinks, (cufflinks!) already on a conference call via his headphones plugged into his phone while he orders his Venti caramel machiatto to go. I look at the lady in the crisp grey suit conducting a business meeting in one of the corner tables over a cup of what I can guess is a black americano. The girl with the pretty shoes and designer label handbag, frantically typing on her Blackberry in front of me.... "I am one of them", I realize not without wonder, and quite frankly disbelief, as I do every morning.

The line inches forward and I am now waiting for the pretty girl with an eastern accent to call out my order at the pickup counter. While I'm waiting I remember I need to reply back asap to that email from Finance about the ABVs. I whip out my own Blackberry from my purse and curse, not for the first time that our company wont allow us to use iPhones instead of this blasted thing.

I have a Blackberry. I know what an ABV is and worse yet, I can actually read one!

When did I become this person? When did I effortlessly (?) blend in with the rest of the busy bees frantically working in one of the world's most important economic platforms and actually feel like I am not an imposter?

As the girl hands me my glorious paper cup filled with flaming hot, milky liquid a thought hits me: maybe I got it all wrong. Maybe it is simply that I am a professional adult, have been for a long while now, who's been deluding herself until now into thinking that she was not grown up yet?


I take a sip. I need it.

Picture: Google images.