New stupid human Starbucks tricks
: I’d reached peace with Starbucks. I like my coffee. I like it large (not vente, damnit, just large). I like it black. So I grit my teeth and go to Starbucks to drink the grit.
But they do find new ways to irritate me.
Lately, they have taken to asking for a name — “first name only” — with every order. And I want to shout: What happens when three Ashleighs come in and order caf and decaf and halfcaf and they all get the wrong frigging coffee and end up in caf-induced fits and you end up with a riot of over-and-under-caffed Ashleighs? Huh? Can’t you just give somebody a number? Can’t you just make the coffee faster instead?
I went to a coffee place in Cambridge during Bloggercon and they put the orders into a computer so we were spared all this Starbucks shouting: “Vente skim decaf latte!” “Vente skim decaf latte!” “Aye-eye captain!” “Battle stations!” “Battle stations!” “Dive!” “Dive!”
And then today I went to Starbucks get my plain large (not vente, large) decaf, which is usually poured by the person who takes my money and I’m on my way. But my wife also wanted a large iced coffee. The cashier didn’t pour that. No, that had to come from a barrista. But it’s just ice and coffee, said my whining look. The line is long. If you took all the people — all the Ashleighs — waiting for their overpriced coffees and laid them end-to-end they’d reach halfway to Bloomingdale’s. Can’t you just pour the damned coffee over ice? I wonder if it would help if I shouted it: “Ice!” “Ice!” “Coffee!” “Coffee!” “Roger!” “No, Jeff!” But he just points to the barrista. The coffee artista.
I wait. I wait longer. They spritz and steam and shout out orders and names.
And finally, the barrista reaches into the fridge for the pitcher of cold coffee. He pours it into the special Starbucks patentened iced-coffee thing. Then he pours in ice. Then he shakes it. I swear, he shakes it, with flourish, as if this were a martini and I were a spy. “Vente iced coffee for James!” “Bond!”
There’s nothing to mix. But he shakes it. OK, the gags on me and it’s over, I think.
But no. Then he lets it sit, as if this is going to do anything besides melt. He goes back to more shouting and spritzing and steaming. Then, at long last, he goes back and pours the damned coffee and ice into a plastic cup and gives it to me. Ah, that special barrista touch.
Damn, they do find ways to drive a person nuts. I paid a premium for this twit to shake this coffee.
I think I’ll go back to drinking too much Coke.
