I am a Starbucks virgin. Despite my years on earth I have never partaken of what I thought was a just a passing, expensive fad among the gullible youth. Like the soda fountains way back when.
After reading a few threads here about the loving versus loathing of the ubiquitous Starbucks, I decided to stroll down to the nearest one this morning and order the biggest, meanest cup of their best coffee. I did not bother to dress in my Sunday best as the cafe was only half a block away from my home and wasn’t Sunday. Accompanied by my studly nurse, Sam, who predictably expressed his protestations against my chosen errand, I marched off confident that I will bring home some revelation regarding the Starbucks phenomena after I have I tried their product.
The counter was a perplexing array of menus, cups, biscuits, scones, mints, coffee paraphernalia and other er, things. Remember, this is my first time in this store and I was only expecting maybe donuts and muffins. I was excited and somewhat overwhelmed. Ordering was an adventure in itself. Unlike other local cafes where a “medium double-double” is as complicated an order as you can get, this was different. Lasting perhaps 20 full minutes, it became 3-way deliberation among Sam, the Starbucks lady and I. I insisted on some South African coffee brew in a cup as tall as my arm is long, with a full froth of cream, laced with chocolate syrup, topped with colorful sprinkles and flavored with cloves, cinnamon, parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme and whatever else they had. Ever-dutiful Sam, insisted on me getting a decaf version, with soya milk, no chocolate - but cocoa powder was okay in moderation - no cream and a cup that was so small it seemed embarrassed of itself. The Starbucks lady, pretty and perky as she is, was not very helpful for everything we asked her was answered by “It is good.” I do not even remember what I ended up with, it was a compromise I suppose, between what I came here for and Sam’s eager safeguard of my cholesterol levels.
I paid for it, stepped out the store with a pronounced pout. I took the lid of the cup, ready to rake a sip and make my own decision whether it is ambrosia or dishwater. But then, I was realized I needed to stir the concoction. So, I sent Sam back in to fetch me one of those skinny, wooden stirrers I had spied on the counter. I stood there waiting for him, trying to swirl some of the liquid my moving the cup in little circles.
I must have looked as if I was disappointed in my lot in life for it was then, that Mr. Good Samaritan came to my aid. God bless him, he only thought he was helping a fellow senior citizen down on her luck. I successfully did NOT curse him to hell and damnation when he meekly plopped a dollar into my drink! My precious first cup of Starbucks coffee befouled by a Good Samaritan’s greasy coin! His smile was so genuine, I had to withdraw my wishes of a thousand deaths upon his person. Well, that and I was shocked into silence. I did not know whether to thank the heavens that goodness still existed in humanity or to rush home, take a shower and purchase an entirely new wardrobe. And maybe a new deodorant?
Sam came back with the blasted stirrer, while I was still standing there muttering “But…but…I do not…this is…do I look like…but…he just…”
“What happened?” inquired Sam.
I pointed to the man who was now maybe 20 paces away. “He gave…he put…I got…there is a dollar in my drink! NOOOOOOOO!”
Sam wanted to run after the man and do whatever he thought he needed to do. I stopped him and said “Not to worry, gallant Sir. Pay him no more mind. My virtue is untouched.” (Actually, I simply said ,“F*@#! it, Sam. Let’s get another cup.”)
The drink was $6.50. Thankfully, I only had to pay $5.50 for the drink this time. I fished the damn coin out and gave it to the Starbucks lady to cover for the rest.
Oh, and she was right. All I can say of the drink was that it’s good.
