Does this latte come with toilet paper?

Endless drama at the Ganja Starbucks tonight. Endless drama.

First, there's the eight-man wrecking crew outside that is dressed in enough fake bling to put a Claire's Accessories to SHAME. One is wearing his pants so low and his boxers so high that I can see the crack of his ..... At least they're cute.

Oh. Now they have the munchies. They're coming inside in droves to get snacks. Dudes. It is 9:45 p.m. at the Starbucks. Everything has been picked over, picked over again and then left out for the corbies. Seriously. Don't wrinkle your nose at the egg salad sandwiches. There's a reason it is the only thing left. You'll eat it and be happy - or walk down to the Shell station. He buys two egg salad sandwiches and a fistful of biscotti. I don't actually know that I've ever seen anyone actually buy biscotti before. It just seems to exist. Huh. When in need ...

On second base - but DEFINITELY NOT getting to MY second base is this creep-o-licious old dude in the corner. *shudder*

He has an iPhone with the speakers turned up to the max - I can hear it from ten feet away even though he has the earbuds in. He was whanging away on an old iBook when I got in, but he shut that off. He's watching some sort of video on the iPhone - and this is worse - he's laughing uncontrollably.

Even the stoner-boy with his pants falling off his skinny rear because of his two phones - now tell me, what could THAT have been for - kept staring.

Which is creepy. Because the place is still, except for me and one barista who's babysitting the drive- thru (the other three are outside, doing who the hell knows what). So, there's only my keyboard clicks and soft cleaning noises when out of the blue comes these bursts of UNCONTROLLABLE laughter. Guffaws and belly laughs. You'd think he was watching old episodes of "The Honeymooners" - which he may have been.

Maybe he was watching porn. Maybe he was reading Starbucks Drama and imagining that I was in a coffee shop in a galaxy far, far away, talking about some other creepy old dude with an iBook and an iPhone and enough B.O. to drop an elephant in its tracks.  Thank you Kali he's gone.

Eww. Clean up after yourself old dude. He just walked away and left his stanky coffee cup sitting on the table. At least have the grace to TAKE IT BACK TO THE COUNTER. They make your coffee. They're not your maids. And he earns a dirty look from the manager for that one. I would not piss this dude off. He has connections to the Estonian youth mafia right outside the door. They're hopped up on who knows what and would probably pawn his electronics, his car and maybe his liver and not bat an eyelash.

Now we get to the good, good stuff.

I walked in and there's a manager on the floor in front of the safe. The safes in Starbucks stores are in such *exposed* locations, too - almost literally two steps from customers and not behind a locked door or anything. I would be so scared to be counting that money in view of customers. If you know where they are, you know exactly what they're doing. The cameras are there to protect the MONEY - not protect you from physical harm.

There's another off-duty barista - its like a siren call, the coffee grounds call the green-aproned ones like moths to a flame even on the days they don't have to work. I have a theory that they put something in the pastry. I've seen baristas scarf down the pastries like they're manna from heaven - then again, that may be just because they're free. Who knows?

Anyway. The off-duty one - who I always see here and who knows my drink order - but I never actually see in a green apron and behind the counter - is leaning on a stack of toilet paper and screaming over the counter at the one trying to count the safe.

Something about a girlfriend. Hell if I know. Then it devolves into why the one on the floor is crying.

Crying from laughter apparently, because the off-duty barista is taking rolls of toilet paper and throwing them at her. Yes. Cash security is a top priority at this Starbucks.

There's also a pack of Marlboros lying on the counter. Because Starbucks is so concerned with image.

I go over, just to be nosy, and the manager walks up, and snarks, "I've hear of people crying over money, but never people crying OVER money." The two girls crack up again, until the one trying to count the safe is lying completely out on the floor, on her side, with the safe wide open and a couple of rolls of toilet paper around her. A glorious, glorious picture of a sober, responsible Starbucks barista. These are the people who serve your food. Just as soon as they're done playing pattycake with wrinkled dollar bills and grimy tile floors!

Don't ask "where has my food been?" Ask "Where has my BARISTA been!"