FourBux

Should have just had water…

Starbucks is selling breakfast sandwiches. And I’m not okay with that.

I have a problem. My mornings revolve around, well, let’s be honest. They revolve around my previous evening. And since I don’t plan on changing my night time routine any time soon, I have developed a workaround.

And that workaround is to answer the sweet sound of the siren’s call…a trip to the Fourbucks on the way to work. As a general rule, I already try to avoid the stores that have installed a drive through, because I’m not there paying through the nose because I absolutely love their coffee, despite their efforts to infuse it with 50% more caffeine than other coffee to get me hooked, but I visit Fourbucks at least partially because of the atmosphere. It used to be a cool place to hang out, study, read, strike up a conversation with a stranger, but now, eh, not so much. It’s become the equivalent of the swap meet - loud, dirty, and packed with the unwashed masses.

Besides having sales people hawking $300 cappuccino machines and assorted coffee paraphernalia at the door, they of course sell pastries. Which I’m fine with, although if you ever checked out the caloric content of some of their grub it would really cut down on the number of items you eat there. I recently discovered that one of their scones had the same amount of calories as a junior cheeseburger. For that kind of fat content what I’m eating better be hot and have cheese oozing out of it.

In addition to selling things we can use to fill the aching void in our faces, they also schlep music. You like the music you’re hearing while you stand in line like so many sheep? Well, impulse buy it at the counter. Sure, you can download the entire CD from iTunes for $9.99, but we’ll sell it to you for $14.00 - plus you get this giant piece of marketing crap that immediately goes into the trash! It’s a win-win. How about a seasonally themed stuffed animal, handmade with care by some child in Indonesia? Please, think of the children. You don’t want them to get fired, do you?

But I digress. What could very well be the nail in the coffin for me is the new decision to sell “Breakfast Sandwiches.” Is it just me, or are these just Egg McMuffins in a fancy wrapper? Sure, I may not have to order it from my car by shouting through a clown’s mouth, but I could if I wanted to. Is this is just Fourbuck’s way of getting back at McDonald’s for beating their coffee in a taste test? Perhaps. I like to think this is one more way to screw me over on my way to work. It’s bad enough when I get caught behind a real-life Barbie doll who wants a “half-decaf, half regular, dry soy latte with a half a pump of vanilla and a third of a packet of Sweet & Low” but now she wants a hot bacony muffin with egg and cheese too? Perfect. That shouldn’t take add too much time to the line. Didn’t Denny’s have a “ten minutes or it’s free” deal at one point?

Anybody take a second and think this one through? If I actually have time to spend in the store I sure as hell don’t want to spend it in line. This directly hurts my customer experience, and causes my thoughts to wander to other, less-commercialized coffee shops.

Wait a minute, maybe they did think it through. Maybe the underlying goal is to get us to stand in line for more time, thus making more impulse purchases of music, stuffed animals and 47-setting coffee bean grinders.

I’m onto you Siren…don’t make me start making coffee at home.

I don’t want to have to go to bed early.

Yes, I’m still alive

Been a busy week since I was here last - I haven’t been able to get back to the blog. My wife and I are visiting friends in Columbus, Ohio, where it’s currently raining and muggy, two things that we desert dwellers are not all that comfortable with. It’s pretty here though, if you like the color green.

On Saturday, my wife and I went to the hockey game that we got the free tickets for, and since it was a pre-season game against the Dallas Stars, the game wasn’t all that well attended. It was fun, and of course, my wife got to ride the zamboni. Which makes sense, because we were obviously the ones who didn’t belong. We were sitting there quietly, drinking coffee and cocoa (twelve dollars’ worth!!), just taking in the game amidst a sea of red and black, and the Coyotes dance squad came up and asked Wife if she would like to ride the zamboni during the next break.

Classic response: “Sure!! What’s that mean?”

They came down with the camera crew at the next period break, and told everyone that we were the craziest fans, so my wife had to ham it up for the camera, then they whisked her away.

At the period break they brought her out on the zamboni painted like a Bud Light beer box. Surely her proudest moment.

And, in the end, the Coyotes won. Pretty good night considering the only thing we had to pay for was warm beverages.

So, you’ve heard of this place, huh?

Today, for whatever reason, I woke up with one of those WTF-did-a-bookcase-fall-on-my-head-last-night headaches. Combined with the fact that I’m not a morning person anyway, I was particularly grouchy by the time left the house. Since I was, of course, late, I didn’t have time to swing by the new Starbucks near my house, although on the ride in it occurred to me that a little caffeine may be just what the doctor ordered. I decided to drive fast and make up a little time, whereby freeing me up to stop at the one near my office. You know the one.

By the time I got there, I could barely see, so the order of the day was coffee, black, stat! When I went inside, there were only two people in line in front of me, so I figured it would be quick. Today though, the karma police were about to throw me in jail.

The first person in line, the one at the register, was a little old lady, probably seventy-five years old, and on any other day, probably the sweetest little thing you would ever want to sit and chat with over coffee.Today, however, I wasn’t having any of it. She was speaking to the tattooed/pierced/goateed barista dude that “Well, you know, I’ve heard of this place. I thought I’d come in and try it. You’re never too old to try new things! Can you explain to me what those are?” She pointed to the menu.
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Starbucks Coffee - now with more Crack - Part Two

So, in today’s Part Two installment of Starbucks Coffee – now with Crack (part one), we catch up with our hero, late to work again, hung over from too much caffeine yesterday and subsequently being up all night, only to stop at the same Starbucks, with the famed orange mug in hand.
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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.
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