Sailing On Lake Starbucks
WELL, I STARTED OFF TODAY IN FINE FORM. No sooner did I set my coffee down on my sacred corner table than I hit the straw and flipped the whole thing into the air and created Lake Starbucks on the floor.
What a dump.
I guess I’m off the Bomb Squad.
The Barista who had handled my transaction was quite pleasant, jovial even – not an easy trick at 6:30 AM. Her twinkling eyes and lilting voice disappeared when she was pushing that mop around trying to clean up my mess. So much for good customer relations. The look she shot in my direction when she finished mopping up my coffee could have melted plastic. I have a feeling that I am now on her “Spit in his coffee” list.
When my coffee hit the floor I uttered an expletive or two. Another nearby Barista overheard me and enquired, “Problem?” I showed him what had just happened and he whipped into action – making me a replacement coffee, and multitasking, told the smiling Barista to grab the mop and get moving.
I got hungry. Swallowing my pride wasn’t enough.
After a respectable period of mourning I tippy-toed up to the counter. I waited until someone else was at the Register. Trying to be discreet and appropriately penitential I quietly asked the Barista to get me one of their breakfast “sammiches” – a double bacon, egglike thing, with a slice of orange organic matter on an English Muffin.
Great. Just Great.
It was hot when I got my sammich. I’m talking about the look on her face. She was smiling again as she handed me my food-thing. It was a smile, but so much more. It didn’t say, “Enjoy your food-thing” so much as it said, “That’s not bacon.”
I was hungry. I ate it. I didn’t lift the lid and look inside. Sometimes it is best to just let the mystery stay a mystery. Unless, of course, I suddenly begin to grow extra thumbs or have an Alien monster baby burst forth from my chest. If that does happen I am going to be really upset. I might even write a strongly worded letter of complaint.
Chances are that nothing overtly malicious will occur and that by tomorrow morning there will be a lot of water over the dam and all will be well. Everything will have returned to what passes for normal. I will order my coffee and I will not launch it into the air. The smiling Barista will once more smile without subtext from “Whatever Happened To Baby Jane?” I may even order another food-thing with the Neo-bacon, and egglike organic matter.
I just can’t get enough.