Wednesday, December 2, 2009

If a Starbucks barista falls in the forest, does anyone hear it?

Sometimes the drama is the customers. Sometimes it the baristas. Sometimes, if I'm lucky, it is the really, really, really off-kilter or having-a-bad-day baristas. And I'm just too tired to fight them. I swear. There is a reality show WAITING to be made "Behind the Green Apron" - or maybe "The Frappuccino Follies;" wait, that sounds like an ice-skating show.


I just wanted a quick coffee before I went to see "Precious: Based on the Novel Push By Sapphire" - yes, that IS the movie's full title, re-DONK-ulous, isn't it? But it is stunningly good. The kid is good, but Mo'Nique is absolutely brilliant as a crack addict mother. Her last scene is worth an Oscar.

Although I think she's probably poisoned that well, because there's been a lot of reporting about how she's demanded money to show up to promote the movie. Girlfriend. It is an Oscar. You show up in a garbage bag and a nappy weave if you have a chance to win, m'kay? And don't do the Eddie Murphy thing and release "Norbit" the same time people are voting for you for an Oscar for "Dreamgirls." He'll never get near another decent movie again. 

Back to me.

I. Just. Wanted. A. Coffee.

It was not to be. It never is. I really don't know why. Maybe it is me. Maybe it is Starbucks.


I go in and *stand* at the register. Not at the pastry case. Not at the handoff bar. Not at the merchandise. Not by the wall. Other than some bored soccer moms yammering on about preschool or Twilight dildos (yes, there is such a thing, so help me Shiva) or something, I was the only customer in the place.

I was apparently not worth of notice.

One barista is cleaning. One is doing something with the coffeemakers and pastries and a cardboard box and the other is leaning out the drive-thru window staring at what could possibly be a dead bird or maybe a Rorschach test of his admittedly limited intelligence.

PLEASE note that none of them were actively engaged in dealing with any customers, either in the store or at the drive thru.

I wait.

Finally, Cardboard Box, who is apparently the manager, asks Rorschach "Do you need something else to do?" Because he DID LOOK BORED!

And Rorschach gave him what had to have been the best simultaneous pissed-off and scornful looks ever managed.And he followed it up with a drawling "Nooooooooooooo." Complete with sour face and puffy bottom lip. Just like a recalcitrant child.

Then they finally notice me.

Rorschach takes my order and I hand him my new recyclable Venti tumbler. Which - if you have one of those - they won't hold the lids for you.

Rorschach removes the lid for me - and PROMPTLY DROPS THE TUMBLER, THE LID AND THE STRAW ON THE FLOOR.

I swear. Must have been a real good toke he'd been hitting in the car out in the parking lot.

At least he had the grace to go wash out my tumbler, even if he forgot to take off my $.10 personal glassware discount. I counted the clean mug a win.

Stoner baristas FTW!

No comments:

Post a Comment

Post a Comment