phraktyl

And Now for Something Completely Different!

Er, maybe not.

It's time for more random thoughts (as opposed to Deep Thoughts).

Short entry today. I have to go into work an hour and a half early tomorrow morning to support a telcon. This telcon actually starts 5 minutes before the time my alarm clock is currently set to go off.

I am going to need Starbucks.

Speaking of Starbucks (or your particular coffee house of choice---there just aren't that many choices here), what are your favorite drinks? I drink a grande triple decaf soy sugar-free-vanilla no-foam latte.

Now, let me 'splain, Lucy. It started out as a grande vanilla latte. I added the triple when I decided it didn't have enough espresso (for the flavor). Then I found out I was diabetic, so I went to sugar-free vanilla. Then the lactose intolerance kicked in, so I switched to soy. About a year and a half ago, I realized I was drinking way too much caffeine (on average, five 20oz Diet Mountain Dews a day, at least one trip to Starbucks, and sucking down regular coffee all day long), and was also shelling out big bucks for it. So I cut caffeine out. Cold turkey.

This brings us up to the grande triple decaf soy sugar-free-vanilla latte. At that point, I only had one blank box on the side of the Starbucks cups: custom. So I added no-foam for the sole purpose of filling all of the boxes in. This has served a couple of side purposes. The first is that, after I give them my order I can ask if all the boxes are filled. If they are, the order is most likely correct.

The second reason, of course, is to put the new baristas in their places. You can always tell when they are ready: they have been there a couple of weeks, and are brimming with confidence, because they know everything now. I walk up to the counter and say, "This is going to be grande, hot," and wait for them to grab their Sharapie and a cup. They just stand there, giving me that "Go ahead. Make my day" look. "Shouldn't you write this down?" I ask. The sneer is clearly heard when they answer, "I'm ready."

Our eyes narrow, and silence falls over the room. "Okay then. I want a grande..."

They know they have me.

"...triple..."

Their thin-lipped smile widens slightly into a smirk.

"...decaf..."

Knowing I'm almost done, their smile becomes nearly triumphant.

"...soy..."

Their smile starts to fade, and their eyes shift around, nervously.

"...sugar-free-vanilla..."

Their eyes widen and a small gasp escapes their lips. No one orders a drink like this!

"...no-foam..."

They start to sweat a little. The worry is clearly written on their face as their eyes dart back and forth, from the Sharpie, to the stack of cups, and then back to me.

"...latte."

They are broken, and they know it. They slowly get pick the Sharpie up, and get a cup off the stack.

"I'm sorry, sir. What was that again?"

I repeat my order, slowly, so they can write it all down.

Before they can say anything, I volunteer "That will be $4.40," and give them exact change. I've clearly done this before.

"And what is your name?"

One of the other baristas behind the counter tells them---a sure sign I visit too often.

With that, the coffee-house breathes a collective sigh of relief, and people continue on with their normal business.

I love it here.