Go 'buck Yourself
It wasn’t until after I got my first Starbuck’s card that I realized how incredibly much coffee I consume. My mother (herself quite the curmudgeonly lady, may she rest in eternal peace) bought it for me a couple of Christmases ago, knowing how much I like a cup of good, strong black coffee. It was a $50 gift card, conveniently redeemable in any one of the 7,661 Starbucks stores coast to coast. Or maybe even around the world; how the hell do I know- I’m lucky they still let me on the Greyhound bus.
By around the end of January, my card balance had already shriveled to a measly $1.43- not even enough to pay for the large (I refuse to say venti) coffee I had just ordered. And coffee is just about all I ever have... I get irritated at all the twinks in line ahead of me whose orders contain more adjectives than a James Michener novel: “Uhhhh, I’ll have a grande double skinny half-latte extra hot mochacrappachino with soy foam and an extra shot of espresso. Oh- and could you put it in a venti cup with a flat lid?” C’mon people, it’s coffee. Be a man or be a woman and just order a goddamn cup of coffee, like God damn well intended in the first place (may He rest in eternal peace).
I never even had a cup of genuine brewed coffee until I went away to college. Nescafé instant; yeah, that’s what the Curmudgeon family drank. If you had the luxury of time, you could boil up some water in the little tea pot that always sat on the stove and have yourself a steaming cup of coffee in a jiffy. If time was short, a splash of hot water from the kitchen tap would still do the job. In a pinch, The Curmudgeon was even known to have spooned dry coffee directly from the jar into his mouth, but Mama Curmudgeon frowned upon this as well as other things like drinking right from the milk carton, scraping off the insides of an Oreo with your teeth then reassembling the dry husks back into the package, and licking all of your Halloween candy in front of your brothers and sisters so they would keep their filthy mitts off your stuff.
The $50 that lasted me less than three weeks at Starbucks would have bought a year’s supply of Nescafé, even adjusting for today’s inflation. And I wouldn’t even have to
stand in line for it. But think of all the wonderful experiences I would have missed, not rubbing elbows with my fellow Starbucks junkies. Like this standing-in-line drama, which plays out with disturbing regularity about 3 times a week:
Me (displaying my nicest, cutest smile): “Man, I think we’re in the wrong profession- just look at this line!”
Attractive Woman of a Certain Age: “Yeah.” (looks at watch).
Me: “You know, they say that drinking coffee can actually lower your risk of heart disease.”
AWOCA: “Yeah.” (checks out pastry case).
Me: “I love those oat-maple scones! The only thing better would be if they were all covered in chocolate.”
AWOCA: “Yeah.” (takes out cell phone and pretends to take a call)
Me: “You know, there is a big hairy spider crawling up your pants leg”
AWOCA: “Yeah.” (proceeds to order a grande double skinny half-latte etc. and gives the disinterested guy with all the hair a smile and a lingering glance on her way out the door).
That’s what your $2.09 buys, folks- atmosphere. You can’t get that from a jar.
By around the end of January, my card balance had already shriveled to a measly $1.43- not even enough to pay for the large (I refuse to say venti) coffee I had just ordered. And coffee is just about all I ever have... I get irritated at all the twinks in line ahead of me whose orders contain more adjectives than a James Michener novel: “Uhhhh, I’ll have a grande double skinny half-latte extra hot mochacrappachino with soy foam and an extra shot of espresso. Oh- and could you put it in a venti cup with a flat lid?” C’mon people, it’s coffee. Be a man or be a woman and just order a goddamn cup of coffee, like God damn well intended in the first place (may He rest in eternal peace).
I never even had a cup of genuine brewed coffee until I went away to college. Nescafé instant; yeah, that’s what the Curmudgeon family drank. If you had the luxury of time, you could boil up some water in the little tea pot that always sat on the stove and have yourself a steaming cup of coffee in a jiffy. If time was short, a splash of hot water from the kitchen tap would still do the job. In a pinch, The Curmudgeon was even known to have spooned dry coffee directly from the jar into his mouth, but Mama Curmudgeon frowned upon this as well as other things like drinking right from the milk carton, scraping off the insides of an Oreo with your teeth then reassembling the dry husks back into the package, and licking all of your Halloween candy in front of your brothers and sisters so they would keep their filthy mitts off your stuff.
The $50 that lasted me less than three weeks at Starbucks would have bought a year’s supply of Nescafé, even adjusting for today’s inflation. And I wouldn’t even have to
stand in line for it. But think of all the wonderful experiences I would have missed, not rubbing elbows with my fellow Starbucks junkies. Like this standing-in-line drama, which plays out with disturbing regularity about 3 times a week:Me (displaying my nicest, cutest smile): “Man, I think we’re in the wrong profession- just look at this line!”
Attractive Woman of a Certain Age: “Yeah.” (looks at watch).
Me: “You know, they say that drinking coffee can actually lower your risk of heart disease.”
AWOCA: “Yeah.” (checks out pastry case).
Me: “I love those oat-maple scones! The only thing better would be if they were all covered in chocolate.”
AWOCA: “Yeah.” (takes out cell phone and pretends to take a call)
Me: “You know, there is a big hairy spider crawling up your pants leg”
AWOCA: “Yeah.” (proceeds to order a grande double skinny half-latte etc. and gives the disinterested guy with all the hair a smile and a lingering glance on her way out the door).
That’s what your $2.09 buys, folks- atmosphere. You can’t get that from a jar.
posted by Curmudgeon at 11:07 PM
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