Speaking of Starbucks

I actively hate Starbucks. I go in there, despite my hatred and better judgment, about once or twice a month and I am regularly pissed off.

Just the other day, I was berated for not putting the wording of my order in the right contextual order, according to Starbucks.

Really, guys? Really?

Let's say I asked for a vanilla latte, grande with skim. I already want to kill myself for saying the word "grande," but history proves the horror in saying "medium."

This uppity, condescending, c-u-next-tuesday of a barista stares at me for a moment and then without taking her eyes off me says, "Can I get a GRANDE-VANILLA-SKIM-LATTE? Or a vanilla, grande, latte, skim.... whatever she said."

You make 7 dollars an hour, sister... if you are expecting my petty change in your tip cup (that sounds dirty) I'm thinking a little less of your 'tude and a little more kissing of my butt.

SBUX...sucks?

I have to admit, a little bit of my soul just died when I heard that the baristas are pissed off enough to create an I Hate Starbucks blog....and mess with your drinks.

I just leapt out the window onto a swimming pool filled with razor blades. And shut up, I don't know where the pool came from, nor can I explain how I'm blogging from my fall. Maybe I'm using my blackberry.

Anyway. If you're looking to cut back your caffeine intake or sneak a peek into the lives of SBUX Baristas...hereyago.

Live in the now!!!

Once, I was vacation with my then boyfriend and his family. Lovely people. We took a break from the beach and went to town to get some subs (hoagies, grinders, heroes, shut up.). Once arriving at Subway, I'd soon realized that these baby boomers had never been to a Subway chain. Really? Honestly.

They stood there, mouth agape at all the choices available. They spent about 15 minutes discussing the merits of splitting a footlong, since they both like turkey, but maybe you should get the meatball and I'll have a bite and then you can have some of the turkey oh but wait you don't like peppers can they do half peppers?

Soon after, I researched flame throwers online.

But, let's face it. They live outside of the city, cook most of their meals at home and were brought up in a "going out to eat is a special occasion" family. Gotta give them some slack.

However.

The person to whom I am not offering slack is the New Yorker who doesn't know the ordering system at Starbucks.

Tall. Grande. Venti. Hell, I'll take Small, Medium and Large.

But don't give me "what sizes do you have" bullshit or the "can I get a big coffee" or the "oh wait - do you have anything that's not too strong?" or "do you have anything smaller"?"

Or..."Can I get a GRANDEE?"

Fuck you. You live here. Since you made the decision to emerge from your bomb shelter, why not do a little research before coming to the busiest, angriest breakfast spot in the city?

And don't give me the "I'm not a regular" excuse. You go to a foreign country, you learn the languange. You live in the city, you learn the code. Grab a coffee-to-english dictionary or fucking step to the side while I order.

Why I Hate You...

First in a series, this award goes out to a special customer who's irritated us enough to bring commuter sweats to a boil.


Why I Hate You...Networking Starbucks Customer

Yes "Ted," we see you. You've got the attention you'd asked for. We see you as you loudly proclaim your need for a quad latte because you only need 2-3 hours sleep MAX. We stand in awe before you when you turn to us behind you with a wink and assert that you need your "fix." We bow down to the ballsitude you show when you squeeze your self into that corner and reach into the forbidden barista zone, just to grab your own lid.

However, we will NOT be checking out your new gym around the corner that "blows the big boys out of the water." We do NOT want to watch you shake hands with every barista:

"HiI'mTedandyournameis"

"Hihowareyoui'mtedhowlonghaveyoubeenhere?"

"Hehyousureknowhowtoworkthatsteamerdon'thurtyourselfnow"

Please stop promising them skin care products from your girlfriend's job...unless you actually show up with the stuff and give us some.

Sir, it's 7:45 in the am. I shouldn't even be out of bed. I shouldn't be sober. Please don't network with the baristas. They don't care about your gym, your squat weight, nor your penchant for 'extra room.' They just want your free shit and their free coffee.

Ted, that's it.
I hate you.