Let me start off by saying this….I do not drink coffee. The taste of coffee to me tastes like someone burned some feet sweat and then added some juice squeezed out of a dead squirrel. However, my bride, and the ladies she works with, love the stuff. So I, being the doting husband that I am, will sometimes swing by Starbucks and pick up some of the strange concoctions for them to try and brighten their day a little bit.
Now for those of you who have never had the pleasure of experiencing the world of Starbucks, you don’t simply walk into one and order a cup of coffee. If you do they will look at you like you are speaking a foreign language because somewhere along the way, coffee stopped being coffee and started being things like Mochiatto, Latte, and Cappuccino. Yes, those are real words.
But it gets much more difficult than just remembering those words, because then you start adding in 3 squirts of this stuff and a dash of that stuff. Then you mix in some magic elixir that you pour over your left shoulder and throw it in a blender.
To make things even more difficult to understand for dorks like me, they stopped having small, medium, and large size cups. If I’m lyin, I’m dyin! You now must order a “short”, a “tall”, a “grande”, or a “Venti”. If you are really thirsty, you can order a “Trenta”. I’m told these are Italian words but I don’t speak Italian or live in Italy, and I damned sure don’t order coffee in Italy so who knows.
So I’m at Starbucks today in my dirty blue jeans, my Fort Worth Stock Show t-shirt, and my Flora-Bama cap ordering some Latte’s and Frappa-Mochiatto’s, or some crazy shit like that, and I’m watching some of the other customers in the place when I start to realize something… I am not like these people.
One guy is sitting at a table with 2 laptops open and a cellphone headset on. He is talking to someone about how “glorious” it was to see Jeffrey at the museum yesterday. Now I don’t have a clue who “Jeffrey” is, but apparently he has a cute little dimple somewhere.
Then there is this other dude with green hair who is sitting with his purse on the table, right next to his female companion’s notebook that say’s “Bacon is Murder!” on it. Now I only call her a female because I believe that’s the way she started out. I’m gonna have to let the good Lord make the final call on where she ended up.
But the one that got my attention the most was this guy in a business suit, briefcase on the table, and he is yo-yo’ing. I mean he is a full on, walk-the-dog, around the world, between the legs and over the shoulder yo-yo bad ass! Huh-uh, I’m not like Starbucks people.
I was doing fine, I had gone down my list of the girl’s drinks and paid for the order……and then it happens. The lady behind the counter says to me “I’m sorry but our “Blonde Latte” machine is broken. What else can I get you?”
Latte Lady: Our Blonde Latte machine is broken. What can I get you instead?
ME: Are the Brunette or Redhead Latte machines working?
Latte Lady: We only have a Blonde one and it’s not working.
ME: (Texting as fast as I can trying to figure out what the hell to do now) I will have to ask her what else she wants.
Latte Lady: (Staring at me like she wants to shove a Grande Latte up my Venti). Just let me know baby.
Eventually, I get the drinks ordered and drop them off at the office. The next time I go in there I am going to order an “Iced, Half Caff, Ristretto, Venti, 4-Pump, Sugar Free, Cinnamon, Dolce Soy Skinny Latte” BAM!