“Hi. I’d like a Venti Iced Mocha.
With Skim Milk.
With an addshot.
With only two squirts of chocolate.
My stomach turns every single time I order. I might as well come out and say, “I’m the queen who knows exactly what she wants and deserves it, because I’ve got this fancy Starbucks card.”
The only reason I have the fancy Starbucks card is because I took a bag of change to Coinstar and if you’re cheap like me and don’t want to pay the 9% to get your cash, they’ll give you the full amount in a Starbucks card. The debate on whether or not I would use sixty-seven dollars and thirty-two cents on Starbucks never even arrived in my head. Of course I would!
The lady at Starbucks may not even judge me. She’s probably more concerned that ordering gives me an anxiety attack over why my Starbucks cup has more nonsense writing on it than a hipster’s ironic tattoo.. But I’m in the service industry…and I know the more people start creating exactly what they want rather than what’s on the menu a big banner rolls across my head that says, “Awe. You’re special, aren’t you?”
Why couldn’t you be special? Does everyone really need life without the modifications? If everyone who went into Starbucks ordered a regular coffee, there’d be a lot of boring people out there (and a lot more unemployed aspiring screenwriters).
When does this mentality get thrown out of balance? Are there people out there who are so used to creating a life exactly as they prefer it, complete with the number of chocolate pumps, that they are miserable whenever the situation doesn’t allow it?
You know how some people just always have stink face? Perhaps they’re thinking, “Today I asked for 83 degrees with no humidity, a light Sunday traffic, and a booty call at exactly 11:30 AM. Why did no one listen?”
Some days I feel life go completely awry for me. I get angry. Life then pulls me aside and says, “Honey-boo, this ain’t Starbucks.” (The part of life will be played by a large, sassy black woman).
And she’s right.
Now if you are ordering and getting exactly what you want at Starbucks, and you still have stink face, then you’re a douche. Sorry.
love and extra foam,