An Award-Winning Disclaimer

A charming little Magpie whispered this disclaimer into my ear, and I'm happy to regurgitate it into your sweet little mouth:

"Disclaimer: This blog is not responsible for those of you who start to laugh and piss your pants a little. Although this blogger understands the role he has played (in that, if you had not been laughing you may not have pissed yourself), he assumes no liability for damages caused and will not pay your dry cleaning bill.

These views represent the thoughts and opinions of a blogger clearly superior to yourself in every way. If you're in any way offended by any of the content on this blog, it is clearly not the blog for you. Kindly exit the page by clicking on the small 'x' you see at the top right of the screen, and go fuck yourself."

Friday, November 6, 2009

Starfuxme

I get indignant a lot.

Noticed that about me?

I don't like indignation, and I regret that it's a component of who I am, but at least I'm able to recognize it.

I caught myself getting indignant at Starbucks this morning, and I said to myself, "Apron, (I used my real name, because I was talking to myself and nobody could hear it), you're a bad boy."

And, sometimes, I just am.

I got indignant at Starbucks this morning because the woman in front of me ordered two Venti Lattes, both with extra shots of syrup, and some other complicated things that I couldn't even decipher as I craned my neck to read the order read-out monitor. In any case, her total came to $9.68, so you know there was some heavy shit going on there. Needless to say, the completion of this suburban mom-in-white-striped-pants' order took an inordinately long time to fill.

And I got indignant about that.

As this is a Starbucks located inside a supermarket (yes, go ahead and snigger at me derisively because I live in the suburbs-- I don't mind) there was only one person behind the counter and she wasn't exactly the sprightliest character ever to wear a green apron-- so, maybe I should have been indignant at the Starbucks worker, but I don't think so. I don't think she was the main problem here. I don't even think Mrs. Stripey is the problem, though I was getting a serious hate-on for her in the heat of the moment. I think Starbucks itself, the purveyor of complicated pseudocoffeeconcoctions is the guilty party.

I just wanted a coffee. A simple, straight, boring cup of coffee. Because I am a depressed, sleep-deprived caffeine addict who requires a certain amount of caffeine and sugar to maintain homeostasis, or else I will be a complete failure at work and at life, alternately growling at people and falling asleep at varied intervals. How much time does it take even a lethargic Starbucks employee to grab a cup, pour coffee into it and hand it over? 20 seconds? Sixteen? Eight?

Just give me my motherfuck joe, honey, and we can all walk away unharmed.

I think it should be a federal law that all Starbucks ought to be manned by two employees at minimum. One line should be for straight up coffee-drinkers. Nobody else. The second line can be for, you know, people who like lattes and shots and foam and whip and tiny umbrellas in their coffee or whatever. Let them all sweat it together. It's rather like the Express Lane at the supermarket. We've got a job to do, and we're going to do it quicker than you, so let us do that and leave us alone.

Also, at highway rest-stop Starbucks: no silly drinks allowed. Period. People traveling in the pouring rain on I-95 at 10:00 at night should not have to stand in a line for 20 minutes because people want gay, cute little drinks that take 4 minutes per customer to prepare. Want coffee? Here. Take it and get the fuck out of here.

Now this would be coffeetopia.

7 comments:

  1. I can now officially say: LOL.

    And?
    The Starbucks by my work, the one I very recently waxed rhapsodic on, had six employees behind the bar this morning.
    SIX.

    Now that. Is. Efficiency.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Um...why don't you find a drive-thru anything to get plain ol plain ol coffee? I hit the local Dunkin' when I want coffee without the frills. The coffee there is better anyway!

    ReplyDelete
  3. But I was already at the supermarket getting OJ, ranch dressing, and croutons-- and, last time I checked, D&D doesn't have any of those things (okay, they have small bottles of OJ...)

    ReplyDelete
  4. But they don't have low-acid OJ for your refluxy wife!!!

    ReplyDelete
  5. It's called Wawa.

    And it's a fraction of the price.

    Stop being a snob, Apron, and get in the trenches with the rest of us.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Bahaha oh Apron you kill me on a daily basis. Seriously. Little umbrellas in their drinks. Listen. Hear that, Starbucks? YOU JUST GOT TOLD!

    I think you should open a coffee shop and regularly abuse your costumers. I would totally be a regular.

    ReplyDelete
  7. I totally thought you were going to go into a Denis Leary "coffee flavoured coffee" rant for a minute or two.

    I sometimes go to Starbucks, and I don't even drink coffee. I think I'll be first against the wall when the revolution comes.

    ReplyDelete

Got something to say? Rock on with your badass apron!