Eff the Barista

So this morning I made the mistake of choosing Starbucks for my morning caffeine fix instead of going to my usual haunt and as a result, have been in a dismal mood ever since. A mood so dismal as to not even be cured by the burnt, bitter and lukewarm coffee I would later receive after my twenty minute journey into ... the trenches.

Why Starbucks, when I had a great thing going at Financier, you ask? Sure, the guys at Financier give me free cakes, they know my order by heart, they wink at me from behind the bar when steaming my milk, but the fact of the matter was that this morning I was late to work and the line at Starbucks looked shorter.

What my untrained eye didn't notice, however, was that the line was actually backed up behind the "bar" into the back of the glass encasement. And what's worse, the people back there looked pissed. The only thing clear to me at this point was that Starbucks had clearly mastered taking orders with enough accuracy to ensure that the line was short enough to lure customers, but still long enough to block the view of the deadly trenches.

This masterful trick is how I too found myself stuck in the trenches, staring wistfully at the 'barista' but to little avail. While he was mixing "Iced Skinny Cinnamon Dolche Lattes," effortlessly blending "Mocha frappuccinos" and swiftly manning the bar as only a well-trained Starbucks barista could do, alas, my "tall skim misto" (i.e. coffee with a little steamed milk) was nowhere to be found.

After five minutes of waiting impatiently, not to mention getting body slammed by a twelve year old kid fighting over a toy train with his brother, followed immediately by my foot being rolled over by a baby stroller, I began inching closer to the bar. The misto HAD to be there somewhere, and I was going to help the man staffed with apparently adding efficiency to the process by calling out the names of the people on the cups, find it. (Mind you, he shouted Larissa three times and no one responded... ten minutes later the coffee was claimed by an angry woman named CLARISSA who was "quite positive that she had annunciated when she placed her order FIFTEEN MINUTES AGO").

What did I notice upon inching closer to the bar? A sign that read: "Why don't you ask your Barista to brew you a complimentary shot of espresso while you wait!" WTF?! If I wanted an espresso, Mr. Barista, I would have ordered an espresso, so why on EARTH, when I am perseverating over the drink I actually ordered as I watch another "banana nut smoothie for Mary Jane" walk by, would I ask for a "free" espresso and further delay the production of MY DRINK???

The concept sent me into a tizzy. Honestly, what is it with Starbucks and its annoying global franchise of making up stupid names like "misto" for simple concepts like a CAFE AU LAIT, and tall/short/venti for small/medium/large. Not to mention, that annoying term "barista" which Starbucks pretends it created but really just bastardized. I mean, heck, if you google "barista" you'll see that there is actually a world BARISTA tournament, and I doubt it heralds any of Starbucks' finest. Besides, it sounds like bartender but is really just a guy behind the counter mixing drinks you WISH would make you drunk but for the most part, just make you fat.

Moral of the story: a morning in the trenches forever turned me into a Starbucks hater and inspired me to search for more of my own kind. I encourage you all to visit the site I just found:

www.ihatestarbucks.com

love,
h bomb