On becoming a "regular"

I love being known.

There’s a sushi restaurant in Las Vegas that my family has a standing reservation on Fridays at 5 pm. Every time we walk in, my dad yells HELLO! to the owner behind the sushi bar, and the owner yells right back. Our table is always the same, and while our order might vary slightly, there will always be garlic edamame and too many rolls for us to finish. Not only do we have a standing Friday night reservation — we have our very own roll on the menu. That’s right. The “Gubler-Coons” roll. Is it a mouthful, both verbally and literally? Yes (my sister loves eavesdropping on people trying to pronounce our last names). Does it taste insanely good? Also yes.

I feel like a celebrity at Sushi Fever. Frankly, it’s a boost to my ego. I love being known.

Now that I no longer live in Las Vegas, I’m trying to recreate that celebrity status feeling. I want to be a regular somewhere (preferably multiple places). I want to be known for my impeccable ordering skills, and I want to know the employees by name. And here’s what I’m doing to accomplish that feat.

1. Every morning, I yell HELLO! to the man in the coffee cart next to my office and he yells HELLO! right back. I’ve never actually ordered anything from him, but the line at his cart is always 5 people deep, so he must make a fabulous bacon, egg, and cheese. Maybe I’ll stop and we’ll chat one of these days.

2. There’s a dive bar/sandwich shop approximately 7 minutes from my apartment. I’ve been 3 times this week. I finally met Dave, the chef, and yes, he was trying to flirt by offering a free sandwich to my gluten-intolerant roommate Paige, who promptly turned him down. I have high hopes that he’ll remember our names and maybe continue to offer us free sandwiches.

3. Across the street from my work is a Maman coffee shop. Alfonso, the owner, always takes my order, and while he continues to ask what my name is, I think I’m on the right path to becoming a seasoned regular. He’s already started to remember my order — a cappuccino, whole milk, with cinnamon on top.

Honestly, the yearning to become a “regular” is not simply to stroke my ego. It adds a human touch to the purchases I make every day. Instead of just swiping my card when ordering a sandwich or cappuccino, it feels personal — like I’m actually speaking to a person and they’re talking back and we’re having a conversation that will last either 10 seconds or 10 minutes. Who knows! Their perception of who I am is formed outside of who I portray myself to be online.

And what is social media if it’s not a performance! While I post every week for my loyal followers about a new museum or restaurant, in my life offscreen, I crave ritual and repetition. Sure, I love novelty. But my rituals, and the repetitions of these rituals, have become integral to my well-being. Whether that’s smiling at my neighbor or yelling hello to the man in the coffee cart every morning, those acts ground me in the world and make me feel alive outside of my algorithm. I’m trying to stitch myself into the fabric of this city, and maybe I’ll get a sandwich named after me (I can only hope!!!!).