Coffee & landfills

I didn't have time this morning to make coffee at the place I'm staying in NYC. So after I got off the subway (the bike had a blowout flat about one block in to my ride -- boo) I stop in to a local deli. Places like it are all over the five boroughs, and this one is pretty typical of lower Manhattan: slightly upscale, slightly pricey, with relatively friendly but somewhat harried and world-weary staff.

I order a large black coffee. The woman goes over and puts together two cups and then puts on one of the cup-sleeve thingies. I tell her I really don't need it double cupped, and she looks at me like I'm deranged, and says:

Coffee Woman: But it's really hot.
Me: I know, I promise to be really careful. I really hate to take more stuff I have to throw away.
Coffee Woman: [nods sympathetically to pretend that she understands and agrees] Okay, but you have to take this [sleeve thingie]
Me: Really? I'd rather not. [I'm being nice and smiling.]
Coffee Woman: No, you have to.
Me: Okay, that's fine. [I wasn't going to win this particular debate.]

Coffee woman puts the coffee down on the counter.

Coffee Woman: Do you need a bag? (She already pulling one out. I'm not ordering anything else, just a single cup of coffee.)
Me: No, thanks. I really don't like to take the extra stuff.
Coffee Woman: [nods sympathetically again] Okay.

Coffee Woman puts a stack of napkins about an inch high on the top of the cup. I reach over and gently take then off the cup and put them back on her stack.

Me: I really don't like to take the extra stuff, you know?
Coffee Woman: [nods sympathetically again] Okay.
Coffee Woman: A dollar sixty-five, please.

I pay, thank her, and drop a dollar in the tip jar.

I swear, I was being really, really nice, and really, really polite. But shit: really? A single cup of black coffee was nearly responsible for a clearcut forest.