It Sucks to Give Bucks to Starbucks
Starbucks could be the bane of my existence and my catch-22. I am a coffee purist. I like my coffee like I like my athletes; black and strong (YES! I REALLY am that racist... joke's on you).
I never got into the lattes, americanos, macchiatos, cappuccinos, or any other -inos you can associate with coffee. Ain't nobody got time for that. I started drinking coffee to give me an extra kick in my daily routine eons ago. So why would I clutter it with crap when I could just drink jet fuel instead. Coffee for me is no different from you, it's the fuel for my engine, my joie de vivre, my ritual and without it, I become scarier than Joan Rivers without plastic surgery. Many of you may say, but wait, I haven't witnessed an extremely cranky Lauren in the mornings. That's probably because I ALWAYS hydrate myself with the proper caffeine and endorphin level before I encounter human existence.
Ninety percent of the time I am a very good coffee girl, and make my own at home. However, there are a few instances when I'd like to try another flavor, or walk on the wild side of the gourmet coffee shops. Starbucks' can be found within a mile from each other, so naturally like anyone else on this earth, I occasionally grab a cup of joe from there.
One thing you can always count on, is the most impeccably perky idiot behind the counter to greet you and say, "HI! I'VE HAD 4 SHOTS OF ESPRESSO IN THE LAST 10 MINUTES! HOW CAN I HELP YOU!"
I want to shout back, "Just STOP right now!"
Maybe I'll reach your level of perkiness at noon, but at the moment, I can barely keep my eyelids afloat. So stop screeching and hand me a bucket of coffee and a complimentary IV, to inject the black tar into me ASAP. Yet, somehow I resist my snarky retort, or so I would like to think. I've been known to be a bit cheeky to those who annoy me at restaurant counters. A good friend of mine, Morgan, can attest to this. For some reason it always happens while I'm out to eat with him. We, and when I say we I mean I, always seem to have an awkward encounter with those on the other side of the partition.
I've worked in an upscale restaurant, a bar, and behind the counter of a fast food sandwich shop, I've been there. Despite my sympathies, I find your outwardly fake friendliness an annoyance and not something that will make my trip to the one millionth Starbucks a memorable one. I don't live in Los Angeles for a reason. I seem to get snarky immediately upon encountering these overly expressive people in the serving industry. I don't want a random friend, I just want some coffee. I'm a selfish person with a motive, so don't try to get in the way of what I want. If you do there will be consequences, AKA my sarcastic humor with little left to the imagination. I wish I could give you an example to make this post shine bright with irony, but I'm not perfect and forget most of my one liners after the fact.
DAMN YOU Starbucks, if I didn't actually enjoy what has become a regular routine of this vicious circle, then maybe I would avoid you at all costs. But truth be told, I now find it to be an enjoyable challenge to see how high I can set my sarcastic comments, to those behind the counter. Especially since most of the workers probably don't understand what I'm referencing anyways. But the most important thing of all to me, is that I have to see if I can be a smart-ass, even before I've received my daily sacrament of motor oil. Guilty as charged.
I never got into the lattes, americanos, macchiatos, cappuccinos, or any other -inos you can associate with coffee. Ain't nobody got time for that. I started drinking coffee to give me an extra kick in my daily routine eons ago. So why would I clutter it with crap when I could just drink jet fuel instead. Coffee for me is no different from you, it's the fuel for my engine, my joie de vivre, my ritual and without it, I become scarier than Joan Rivers without plastic surgery. Many of you may say, but wait, I haven't witnessed an extremely cranky Lauren in the mornings. That's probably because I ALWAYS hydrate myself with the proper caffeine and endorphin level before I encounter human existence.
Ninety percent of the time I am a very good coffee girl, and make my own at home. However, there are a few instances when I'd like to try another flavor, or walk on the wild side of the gourmet coffee shops. Starbucks' can be found within a mile from each other, so naturally like anyone else on this earth, I occasionally grab a cup of joe from there.
One thing you can always count on, is the most impeccably perky idiot behind the counter to greet you and say, "HI! I'VE HAD 4 SHOTS OF ESPRESSO IN THE LAST 10 MINUTES! HOW CAN I HELP YOU!"
I want to shout back, "Just STOP right now!"
Maybe I'll reach your level of perkiness at noon, but at the moment, I can barely keep my eyelids afloat. So stop screeching and hand me a bucket of coffee and a complimentary IV, to inject the black tar into me ASAP. Yet, somehow I resist my snarky retort, or so I would like to think. I've been known to be a bit cheeky to those who annoy me at restaurant counters. A good friend of mine, Morgan, can attest to this. For some reason it always happens while I'm out to eat with him. We, and when I say we I mean I, always seem to have an awkward encounter with those on the other side of the partition.
I've worked in an upscale restaurant, a bar, and behind the counter of a fast food sandwich shop, I've been there. Despite my sympathies, I find your outwardly fake friendliness an annoyance and not something that will make my trip to the one millionth Starbucks a memorable one. I don't live in Los Angeles for a reason. I seem to get snarky immediately upon encountering these overly expressive people in the serving industry. I don't want a random friend, I just want some coffee. I'm a selfish person with a motive, so don't try to get in the way of what I want. If you do there will be consequences, AKA my sarcastic humor with little left to the imagination. I wish I could give you an example to make this post shine bright with irony, but I'm not perfect and forget most of my one liners after the fact.
DAMN YOU Starbucks, if I didn't actually enjoy what has become a regular routine of this vicious circle, then maybe I would avoid you at all costs. But truth be told, I now find it to be an enjoyable challenge to see how high I can set my sarcastic comments, to those behind the counter. Especially since most of the workers probably don't understand what I'm referencing anyways. But the most important thing of all to me, is that I have to see if I can be a smart-ass, even before I've received my daily sacrament of motor oil. Guilty as charged.