Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Starbucks Madness

The 2 years prior to marriage, to supplement my teachers' income, I worked part-time at Starbucks. With this extra cash, came the invariable nuisance/comedy of shameless, open conflict amongst employees and customers.  
Serving as a Barista proffered a splendid outlet for pettiness; doling out favors, smiles, and sample Danishes at my discretion. And conversely, smugly charging for each modification made by the annoying. This felt especially gratifying when annoying person eye-witnessed the charms bestowed on the worthy and often previous customer. Classification as worthy,in this instance, has been assessed on the low level of demand.
Due to the location of this Starbucks, we catered often to the gold toothed (yes, at Starbucks),poorly weaved, over-jeweled, overweight, rude patrons, who thought nothing of blasting rap into the drive through speaker while ordering Vente Caramel Frappuccinos with “extra extra extra extra caramel” in addition to numerous other modifications which were sometimes heard(and disregarded) over their music. The addition of caramel costs 35 cents and indicates a regulated quantity and NOT unlimited extra caramel. So, for each "extra" , I would strike the “add caramel” key. Also, that way the barsita making the drink would know specifically how much to pile on. 
And, I was being an ass.
When the total $ appeared, Ta-Daaaaa: the much anticipated  bewilderment. Feigning empathy, I presented my dilemma from under the bill of my hat. "I am paid specifically to hit the modification keys as necessary.  I am sorry but the caramel is simply, not mine to give away." I also expressed a genuine willingness to submit completed comment forms if the policy felt to be While the bill of my hat wouldn't have protected me from any incident intended to bring me harm, I used it as a protective shroud.  
I also savored the privilege of hazing the newest and lamest guests at our Starbucks location. Presenting a small drink knowing well, the was expectation was for a Large. In response to customer dismay, I flatly recite that Tall is small and point to the different size cups, labeling each and trying not to roll my eyes. This followed by “Oh, well then Lemmee get a Granday (Grande)”.To which I adopt the voice of a corpse or a cheerleader depending on my mood: “Grande is a medium. If you would like the largest beverage, I am happy to re-ring and make the Vente for you, while you wait overthere".  "Yeah, Oll have the vaintay, then."


  1. Oh my gosh, Maggie. I saw your post on facebook, so came to check out your blog and about peed my pants I was laughing so hard!!! Good to know that you have starbucks barista experience. I will bring my espersso maker and put you to work at the lake! ;)

  2. Ah. so that's what it's like to work there!

  3. Tracking back through your blog and came to this one, actually looked forward to reading it after the other two that referred back to it. My opinion: It was snarky fun. Perhaps it would help assuage your worry about whether it appeared racist if I said to you that after reading it and the other posts of yours that I've read, I haven't a clue what color your skin is. I think that says a lot.

  4. Ah, the joys of customer service. I still get to be petty one day a week at one of my jobs and reward the easy patrons while punishing the high maintenance ones. I don't have much power, but I wield what I have.


Your thoughts are welcome here. As long as they are kind. Or maybe just not unkind.