By: Noeka Nimmervoll, Staff Writer
Imagine you’re me. A writer, in an age of inflation and AI takeover. Like Charlotte Lucas in Pride and Prejudice, “I’ve no money, and no prospects. I’m already a burden to my parents.”
With my permanently low tax bracket, when I want to rizz up a baddie, what do I do? Break the bank? Can’t do that! Ain’t got a bank to break. I’ve gotta rely on my other assets — my supermassive, huge . . . creative mind and my flagrant tendency to break the rules. I can’t be caught stealing, because it’s “illegal and will end up with you behind bars someday like your good-for-nothing father,” or so it has been explained to me by my meemaw. So, I usually bend the rules.
Inspired by my hero, Tim Robinson, and armed with my ultra-speedy-sexy-and-discreet MINI Cooper, I roll up to the Tim Hortons drive-thru once a month for the distinct goal of hacking the pay-it-forward system. My idea: I buy coffee for the three ladies I work with, and then they might think I’m cool enough to talk to. One day, they’ll take a good look and realize that I’m actually gorgeous under my go-to polka dot sun hat . . . and then, boom! Three baddies on the roster — on a budget. It’s foolproof.
Usually on my missions, I aim to go at a really chill time, like 2:53 p.m. I make sure to bring my sunglasses and some fake bird poop (more on this in a second). Once you’ve got your supplies ready, step out of your cubicle and ask the ladies if they’re interested in a coffee. They usually play it discreetly, scoffing while walking away and laughing at my polka dots.
Haha, don’t worry ladies, I’m gonna get you the perfect cuppa joe. Yeah, we’ve got a pretty good rapport going already.
The objective is this: discount coffee. Not free — don’t let your ambitions tear you away from reality. On average, I save around $3.75 per hustle, which really adds up! Just last month, I saved $2.25. Of course, I would’ve had a lot more money if I hadn’t bought any coffee at all, but . . . I’m no mathematician.
Anyways, I roll up to Timmies with a positive attitude, making sure there’s only one guy behind me. If more than one car lines up, I stop everything, pretend I only speak gibberish, and do another lap around. It creates enough confusion to distract the workers. I wouldn’t recommend it, though, cause once the worker spoke gibberish back and that threw off my whole game plan.
I buy one of the four drinks that I plan to get, ‘cause I’ve gotta get my drank on too! Then, I say: “Hey, how bout I buy the guy’s drink behind me.” They go, “OK, it’s X amount.”
If it’s over $15, abort the mission. Most days I abort.
On the chance it’s under $15, here’s what you’ll do. Pay the bill, then zoom ahead, looping around the drive-thru. Stop before you’re visible by the car that was previously behind you and very quickly dump the fake bird poop all over your car’s windshield. This will make you unrecognizable. Put on the sunglasses. Drive up to the intercom. Act cool — no eye contact with the guy in front of you. This is essential, you need to ensure he doesn’t realize that it wasn’t you who paid it forward to him. Order your baddies their drinks.
If you get to the window and the guy in front of you didn’t pay it forward, you gotta abort the mission. You can’t be letting this cheap punk get the better of you. Drive off and screech “NEVERMIND” to the staff — they’ll figure it out.
When you get to the window, and they tell you that there’s a pay it forward going on, channel your inner Tommy Wiseau: “Whoa, all this stuff for free? Cool.”
Do NOT pay it forward. Drive away. Boom. Now you’ve got four drinks and three girls that might drink it with you (or other times, they might dump it on your head, causing you to call meemaw for life coaching). I’m telling you, without this, I’d talk to nobody at my job all month long. It’s perfect.