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Friday, October 27, 2006

Coffee presents a morning challenge

In my humbug world, there is a time and a place for choice. When I go yarn shopping, I want choice and lots of it. When I go boyfriend shopping, again, choice is good. When it’s an ungodly hour in the morning and I need to buy coffee cause one of my coworkers broke the coffee pot at work--and, let’s be honest, I don’t make my own coffee* and it’s just me today, so I’d have had to buy it even if the coffee pot was still intact--I do not want to have to choose between six different blends. I just want coffee. Regular, plain old boring coffee.

I tried to order a regular coffee this morning at a coffee shop and the guy behind the counter looked at me like I was nuts. “We have six different kinds,” he said, in that tone that implied his incredulousness at having to deal with someone who didn’t know and doesn’t care about the difference between the full-bodied Amazonia blend harvested by pygmies in the rainforest and the milder Verona grown in organic rooftop gardens in Italy.

It’s a Starbucks** world and we just live in it; I know that it’s impossible to just get regular coffee at one of these places. The struggle has been documented plenty of times, so clearly I’m not breaking any new ground. I mean, I should have known better. But seriously, I’m not a coffee connoisseur (I love that when I typed the misspelled “conoisseur” into Google [a.k.a. "The poor man's dictionary"] it gently suggested, “Did you mean connoisseur?”), and all I wanted was the basic brew.

After the barista chose one of the blends because I am incapable of making decisions at indecent hours, I produced my Starbucks cup for him to fill. I wasn’t actually at a Starbucks and he didn’t know what cup size of theirs would correspond with what I presented. I am not going to quibble with someone over 15 cents at 8 a.m., so I usually just tell them to charge me for a large, even if it actually takes a medium. Even so, he started dispensing the coffee into one of their disposable cups to figure out which size my cup would take.

That drives me nuts. What is the point of having a reusable cup if you have to use a disposable cup in order to fill it?

I tried to say something, and at this point, not only am I the psycho who doesn’t care what kind of coffee she drinks, but she also wants to use a hard plastic cup that doesn’t even fit under the dispenser. I’m pretty sure I was the crazy bitch at 8 a.m. who was a bad omen for the rest of his day. Tough shit, as I say, having worked at plenty of customer service jobs.

Anyway, he filled up his large disposable cup and poured it into mine. Of course, he filled it to the brim with steaming hot coffee. And, of course, as soon as he started to screw on the lid, it overflowed and burned his hand. I could have told him that that was going to happen (guess how I know?). At that point, I could feel his hatred; it was palpable and strong and scary. Did that stop me from giving him $20.06 for a $1.86 coffee? Nope!

*-It's not entirely that making my own coffee is, as an internet friend put it, "For the poors," it's also that I'm not that good at it. My coffee is always too weak or too strong or something. Plus, it's for the poors. I try to distance myself from them whenever possible.

**-I wasn't at a Starbucks but I still consider it to be a Starbucks world.

4 Comments:

  • dude, i've definitely freaked out on people who do that. I may have even called the practice "idiotic" and anyone who abides by is also an idiot.

    i didn't say that last part.

    but come on, let's make some sense here.

    By Blogger al, at 1:37 PM  

  • Man sometimes I just love you in the morning. It so entertaining... not for the guy behind the counter but man I got to read about it.

    By Blogger Aundra, at 10:40 PM  

  • I ordered a "Tazo Chai" at Starbucks the other day, which is what it says on the menu for what most people know as a "chai latte" (Latte? Not sure I spelled that right), and the counter girl was like, "Do you mean the Latte?". I mean come on. If it says Tazo Chai on the menu than I shouldn't have to explain.

    By Blogger Alex, at 3:30 PM  

  • That was pretty close to the funniest of your many wonderful posts I have read. (I can't remember them all so I really can't definitively say if this is the BEST). Anyways, I'm glad that jerk burned his hand; serves him right for single handedly destroying the world's forests one disposable cup at a time. Seriously.

    Ok, so is the verb "burned" and the adjective burnt"? I have thought about this at least twice this week and can't be bothered to google around and find the answer.

    By Anonymous Lorien, at 6:00 PM  

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