Too pretty for Starbucks

On Tuesday Starbucks closed its doors in order to retrain it employees.  I thought this would be a good thing because Friday is my “Special Starbucks Treat” day, as in the only day of the week that I buy myself coffee instead of surviving day without.  

Explanation: I make a healthy 8-cups of coffee every morning before I head to work.  I have to drink it all in those 3 hours I have before the workday begins or leave it undrunk in the pot.  That’s blasphemy, so I almost always consume all of the java.  My rule is that I am not allowed to bring coffee to work with me anymore.  This was an effort to reduce the amount of brew I drink, which has horribly back-fired because previously I would drink 2-cups at home and take one travel mug with me to work equaling 4 cups of coffee.  I have succeeded in doubling my coffee consumption in half the time in my effort to curb the addiction.

Special Starbucks Treat Friday rolled around, today, and I head down to get myself and nice steaming cup of joe to celebrate the weekend (which looks like it’s really going to suck because it’s so loading with crappy things to do).  I always go to the same Starbucks, at the same time and order the same thing.  I like routine.  This morning, I get the one barista I never get.  This one barista has to, of course, complete her conversation with another barista before assisting me.  I’m cheerful, I’m about to get my Special Starbucks Treat, I can wait. 

I order: “Grande drip, sugar-free hazelnut…” she walked away from me.  She did ask me if she could help.  Apparently she wasn’t ready.  I attempt again when she returns only to have her pick up a cup and walk away again.  I’m obviously in the middle of a sentence.  Her back is turned to me, but that doesn’t prevent me from giving her the LOOK.  The LOOK that says “It’s Special Starbucks Treat Friday and you are screwing it up.”  She returns with my cup, I continue my raised eyebrow LOOK.  I finish my sentence: “…and please put heavy cream in it for me.”  OHH THE LOOK OF HORROR, her little teen face showing complete astonishment.  She gave me a look that could only mean I had asked her to whip out a boob and squeeze the milk from her pubescent teet into my cup of coffee.  “You mean, like whipping cream?!!?”  Yes, I mean, like, whipping cream.  I did not st-st-stutter my slow friend.  The look continues, this time morphed into disgust that says “You are gonna get so FREAKING FAT!”  The disgust did not subside until I have removed my foul presence from her store.  I swear her eyes fixated on my hips as I strutted out the door, looking for the imminent expansion of my body.

So, did Starbucks’ retraining of employees improve their coffee?  Uh, I don’t know, nor care.  Coffee is coffee; I am non-discriminate as long as it’s caffeinated.  Supposedly if your drink isn’t perfect you should let them know and they have to fix it for you.  Perfection is quite lofty.  I’d settle for respect.

It's obvious I am too pretty for Starbucks coffee.