The Life

Why I Love To Hate Starbucks

1-013 The green mermaid stares at me as I drive by.  She lures me in with promise of pep and energy.  I am drawn to her, with bags under my eyes and a to-do list longer than the declaration of independence.   There is something about Starbucks that keeps me and everyone else coming back time and time again.  For some it becomes a habit.  A daily occurrence.  Their coffee pot collects dust in a corner on their counter.  They stop in every morning for their daily fix.

That sounds amazing. 

To go everyday and have my coffee made exactly the way I like it.  To have someone else pour the milk and stir in my splenda.  Oh how I wish.  However I would have to choose coffee over sending my children to college.  Because at $3 a pop, I wouldn’t be able to afford my own coffee habit.  I drink 3 cups before I begin to function in the morning.  I would be $9 bucks in the hole before I even washed the sleep off of my face.  How would I explain that to my children.  Sorry, you’re really going to have to try for that scholarship.  Mama was just so damn tired.

Still, every once in a while a triple shot latte is exactly what I need.  I remember when I had my first.  Don’t you always remember your first?  It was recommended to me by a law school student who hadn’t slept in 3 weeks.  That is not an exaggeration.  I figured if it was keeping her awake, it may help me get over the afternoon slump.  You know, when the kids start getting cranky, it’s time to start dinner and you look around and realize you didn’t get a damn thing done all day.   And for some reason you are exhausted?  That triple shot will hit the spot.  After just one sip you’ll feel a rise in energy.  I kid you not I will fly around my house throwing toys in the correct bins, while whipping up a dinner that doesn’t include scrambled eggs for once, all while randomly stopping to bust out a set of 10 squats.  No lie.  That really happened.   And yes, my butt was sore the next day.  I paid for that latte in more ways than one I’ll tell you.

I just have to wonder why they make the coffee so hot.  I mean ridiculously hot.  So hot, that if I want to drink my Starbucks at 1pm I need to order it at noon.  If by chance you forget how hot they are you will be reminded when you walk away from the counter and take a big sip.  Feel the 300 degree espresso burn its way down your throat as the frothy milk feels like Satan’s jacuzzi at the base of your tongue.  Just act calm as you walk out of the store.  Those people sitting in the big comfy chairs, they are professional Starbucks drinkers.  If you look shocked at the temperature you may as well never step foot in that location again.  Because the same people will be there tomorrow to judge you like the newbie you are.  Don’t worry though, there is another Starbucks within walking distance, so just head there and remember: don’t take a sip right away.

And what is with the Starbucks verbage?  I walked into a Starbucks recently to grab a quick cup of coffee.  I ordered my non-fat cappuccino and stood there while the barista rang my credit card through the machine.  Up walks a girl to the other open spot at the counter.  “Can I please have a grande triple soy chai latte, extra hot no foam?”   What the fuck!?  I turn to look and everyone has a straight face.  I must be getting punked.  What the hell is that?!  Who drinks that!?  How do you even get to that conclusion.  Do you start with a chai latte?  Then develop a milk intolerance, so you must switch to soy?  Need a boost, so you have to add the extra shot?  Extra hot??  Did you not hear me before?  The coffee comes out 300 fucking degrees!  Do you like your tongue?  Because you just burned it off.  And the no foam?  I just can’t deal.  What an jerk.  I’m all for ordering a coffee, or even a “fancy” type of coffee as my father would say.  But that girl crossed a line.   And I will forever think she is an asshole.

So I hate Starbucks, yet love it all at the same time.  The mermaid makes me smile, because like I said, if I am holding Starbucks I am dressed and that means at least one day this week I really have my shit together.

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