The People of Chipotle

As a connoisseur of authentic Americanized Mexican fast-casual cuisine, Chipotle ranks pretty high on my daily list of things to do.  Situated one block from my apartment and next door to the cafe from which I do all my Buzz Feed reading...I mean work...a weekly excavation of my purse contents would reveal several Smackers lip glosses circa '97 and no less than 8-10 receipts for a burrito bowl with guacamole, sans the beans (I'm a damn lady).  Joe from @ChipotleTweets and I have had many a debate about whether or not sofritas should automatically come with guacamole (it's just soybeans in marshmallow form - it should).  My fiancé would quantify me as an addict, and he would probably set some sort of healthy boundary around my obsession if it weren't for the fact that at $6.81 per meal, we can now afford grown up things like health insurance and toothpaste without sparkles.  (I'm talking to you junior Crest; pretty sure you're just candy gel).

I can't say I'm alone in my Chipotle obsession.  Upon my travels to and from "The Le", I've taken stock of the range of folk that frequent this dining establishment.  It's scary.  Unlike the fast food chains of yore, Chipotle attracts a relatively broad, unpredictable crowd.  Some are there for a quick lunch meeting, others for post-workout nosh, and then there are the rare, special few who still pronounce it Chi-pot-llllll. 

F***ing vagabonds.  

In a hyper conscious, penny-pinching, criticism-avoiding, germ-fearing era that we call 2014, allow me to break down the People of Chipotle as non-PC as possible.

                                               (me with my Chipotle receipts for the week)

THE VIRGIN

In LA, there are more Chipotles than Chuck Lorre sitcoms.  It's an eleven billion dollar company, has a documentary on Netflix, and yet, there are seriously still people out there who have never been.  Make no mistake, these people should be feared.  The first-time Chipotle customer is an unruly beast, who typically relies heavily upon his or her friend for guidance as if everyone is speaking Russian - and that's a best case scenario.  Worst case: a newbie will disregard the gigantic line out the door and head straight to the cashier to try to place an order.  Once redirected, he or she mulls over the 4 menu items like it's Sophie's Choice.  Then, they order everything.  Choice of meat?  "Chicken, steak, carnitas, guacamole and chips".  They are usually surprised as hell when their total is $119.87.  The surprise quickly turns to anger and a request to speak to a manager.  No, chips don't come with your order.  This isn't Baja Fresh.

THE EXPERT

Quesaritos, nachos, and burritodillas are the dietary staples of a Chipotle Expert.  This person, usually a male college or high-school student, knows all the off-hours and secret menu items of Chipotle.  He has the app, a half-typed tweet to Joe ready to send after purchasing, and a follow-up Instagram of his burrito, which usually has every ingredient in it.  He correctly calls the grilled veggies "fajitas" and often speaks his order in one word sentences.  "Bowl.  Pinto.  Guac."  He eats insanely fast and usually heads out to do bro things afterwards like buy hoodies and wear Converse with suits.

THE FREE-LOADER

One could argue that you first have to reach Expert status to free-load at the Olympic level in Chipotle.  I say you just have to be a cheap bastard.  Free-loaders are the ones in your group of friends who never account for the tax when you split a restaurant bill.  Often disguised as successful adults well-passed "broke college student" status, these people almost always order a kids meal.  Then, they bargain with the cheerful bean-scooper for additional sides.  They feel entitled to two full scoops of meat and guacamole without the spoon hit (Experts, you know what I'm talking about).  These punks also wait until the very end to correct any mistake made on their order.  And, if a tortilla happens to split trying to contain the quadruple beans, double cheese, triple pico, and pound of corn, they have no problem requesting it be tossed and another children's quesadilla be made again from scratch.

THE TOTALLY GROSS BURRITO-ORDERER

I once witnessed a girl order a 2-tortilla burrito with just a half a scoop of black beans, double cheese, and double sour cream.  She then asked for additional sour cream on the side.  She was dressed head to toe in Lululemon.  These people are a total anomaly and a threat to society.

THE CONDIMENT STEALER

This person always has the only bottle of chipotle tabasco sauce at his or her table.  I hate this person.

THE DIETER

It's amazing how hunger can suddenly make people forgot how to order like a human.  Similar to The Virgin, Dieters question everything.  "Which farm is it from?  Is it really organic?  Will my kid have a feeling after eating this?!"  They bark orders like, "Just a little beans.  NOOOOOOOOOO!!!  That's too much!!!!  GOD!!!"  Then they watch the shamed employee hand pick out and trash each bean to The Dieter's satisfaction.  They always ask if Chipotle is serving fish yet.  Look down.  Is it there???  At the cashier, they question if they can get a special deal because they aren't eating cheese, corn, sour cream, meat, or wheat flour tortillas  They are usually successful.  These people can be easily spotted because they tend to have several small sullen-faced or horribly bratty children with them and will usually be standing on tip toe, leaning their entire body weight over the glass monitoring everything, except their kids.

What other species of Chipotle People have you discovered?


by Erin Stegeman