Starbucks Coffee - now with more Crack
Okay kids, today’s weird experience stems from my daily trip to the Starbucks on the corner. The same one where I saw someone almost get their early morning butt handed to them.
Almost every day, after driving 17 miles to work in a complete fog, I manage to convince myself that I need coffee at the end of my trip. Nay, not just coffee, but that I need Starbucks coffee. The amount of caffeine that they infuse into it is just about what my brain needs to get started in the morning. Or, at least, that’s what I tell myself.
This morning, I decided to go in, rather than sit behind sixteen cars in the drive thru, and, sure enough, there was no line at the counter. It’s a crapshoot, I tell you. Some days, there will be a line around the building for the drive thru, and not a soul inside. Other days, the reverse is true. And when the Perfect Java Storm occurs, both lines are off the property. That’s the day I elect to just sleep in the cube and let the chips fall where they may.
At any rate, in an effort to keep my expensive habit under control, although it may hose the name of my blog, I decided to start bringing my own coffee cup in. Since I just get coffee anyway, it just speeds up the process and is an uber cheap fix. Today’s bill came to 43¢, which I’m sure was a gross undercharge, but last week this same new clerk charged me eight dollars for a coffee and scone, and I didn’t notice until I was back at work and it wasn’t worth a walk back. I figure it all evens out.
So, I approach the counter and plop my cool, albeit not necessarily unique, silver and orange travel mug on the counter, “coffee with a little room, please” being my regular request. The new girl fumbles with the ordering screen, first total coming up to $4.27, at which I squint and give her the “did you even hear yourself?” look, while barista Numero Dos grabs my coffee cup.
Here’s where it gets strange.
The girl, who I talk to almost on a daily basis, picks up my cup like it were a Faberge Egg, holds it up with both hands, and says “Oh my god, what a cool cup! I’ve never seen a silver one like this!” Keep in mind that this beat-up, stainless steel coffee mug is by no stretch a new development. Some are even for sale within eyesight of where I stand.
“And this handle…it so far way from the side, that’s so cool! You can hold it by the handle, or behind it, like this!” clutching the cup with both hands between the cup and handle. Truth be told, the cup wouldn’t fit into the cup holder in my old car, so I stretched it out. Still, nothing worth making a scene about.
“And, oh, I love the orange” GASP “this is a Starbucks cup?!?! How come I’ve never seen this before?”
By now, I’ve gotten my change from the newbie cashier, and am standing, dumbfounded, along with the other customers who have come in behind me, as the barista takes my cup over to the drive thru to show it to the kid running the window. He, understandably, couldn’t care less. Even the other workers, or “partners,” as I think they like to be called, are asking her what the problem is.
“Would you just give the guy his coffee?”
“You’re creeping us out – just get the coffee.”
“Are you on drugs?”
After filling it with joe, she gives back my cup like she were handing off the crown jewels, I take it and wander over to the fixin’s counter, put in my shot of Half & Half, and head for the door. And I swear, the whole time, she never took her eyes off the cup. Which really weirded me out.
Now that I’m back in the office, and had time to think about it, I think there are probably only a couple of explanations for what happened:
- She was on drugs
- She was messing with me, and all of her coworkers, perhaps trying to set up an insanity plea for an heretofore uncommitted crime
- She had been hypnotized, and the silver cup was some sort of trigger that turned her into a tweaking lunatic
Am I missing any other possibilities? Because tomorrow, when I go back, I want to know if I should expect anything more from her, or if I should just bring the blue cup, or just stay in the car and avoid the crazy train altogether.
August 13th, 2007 at 10:49 am
Possibility# 4: She just likes you a lot.
August 13th, 2007 at 11:11 am
Well, unless they changed the saying on me, the way to a guy’s heart is still through his stomache. Doesn’t say anything about the way to a guy’s heart was through the crack pipe.
August 13th, 2007 at 2:54 pm
hahahaha…Emon beat me to it! I was gonna say she probably likes you
Most likely a combination of #1 and #4
August 13th, 2007 at 3:06 pm
I don’t know, I talk to this young woman almost daily and her head has never spun around before. I would almost rather find out she was, say, hanging out with Mary Jane, than to find out she had some sort of sadly-manifesting interest in me.
Partially because if this is her way of flirting, one can only imagine her in the future as the crazy, lonely cat lady, but mostly because I don’t want to have to start going to the Starbucks around the corner.
August 13th, 2007 at 4:28 pm
As long as she doesn’t start licking your cup you should be OK. Also, watch for the extended hand touch when she gives you the cup or the change, that is a sure sign she’s going to stalk you.
August 13th, 2007 at 10:16 pm
Mm, I feel obliged to break the spell of romance here and say she’s just crazy. They usually are, you see. Although, I have to admit, that is one beautiful cup. Just gonna have one last look at it…
August 13th, 2007 at 10:28 pm
Oh Nils, do I have a cup for you, my favorite cup, in fact. As I sit at home, sipping my decaf after a long day, here’s what I’m drinking from:
I know you’re not in Sweden, but cheers anyway, my friend.
August 13th, 2007 at 11:05 pm
I think she eats yellow snow.
Sounds odd to me. Sometimes coffee servers are a little off center. At least here in Houston they are. Kinda bohemian, but not completely full on hippie.–you know the type chick I’m talking about: Long, pitch black hair with really short bangs. They’re usually tall, thin, wearing a short skirt and funky top with odd shoes–like green Chuck Taylors with even weirder looking socks.
Maybe her problem was she simply wasn’t on enough drugs.
Good post!
Laurie
August 14th, 2007 at 2:59 am
I almost fell over laughing reading this…
This is the exact reason I don’t drink coffee..There are some goofy ass people in there…
Was she hot?…If she was you should have hooked up with her for a little pre work nookie…
August 14th, 2007 at 8:28 am
Laurie above summed her up pretty well, except that she has a strange short hair cut. Although I do own a couple of pairs of Chuck Taylors myself, niether of them are green.
Throw into the mix that I’m married, and obviously weirded out by her, the chance that I would want to be around her without the buffer of the green apron becomes smaller and smaller. You know how there’s that cool, interesting, spend-some-time-with-the-quirky-person kind of crazy? In contrast, there is also the you-may-end-up-in-her-freezer type.
The line between the two is sadly blurred.
August 20th, 2007 at 5:55 am
If it was Britain there would be absolutely no question of the explanation. It would be sarcasm, a spin on option two, except that her colleagues would be in on it and it’d be her way of getting at you for bringing in your own cup and therefore posing her with the tricky conundrum every day as to whether your cup was regular, large or extra large in size and correspondingly, how much she should charge you for the coffee she puts in….
However, since you’re in the States where people are actually in tune with the concept of service I’d guess it must be because she was tripping off her tits!
Cheers
BC