I am about to admit something I can imagine I might get some flack for. Espeically from one of my (four) faithful readers, Penseroso, who lives in Seattle.
I don’t like Starbucks.
Perhaps this dislike is simply brought on by the fact that even though I adore the smell of fresh brewing coffee – I can’t stand the taste of the stuff.
I’ve tried to like coffee, and I’ve given it every opportunity to like me too. And every once in a while I give it another second chance. I believe coffee has at least 10 second chances in as many years. We still agree to disagree on liking on another.
I remember my first day of college going to the on campus Tim Hortons and ordering an extra large regular coffee and thinking to myself, “I better learn to like coffee, how will I survive college if I don’t?” I took two sips of the bitter concoction, and threw it away.
Over time I’ve sampled esspressos, lattes, vanilla this, carmel that. . . .I just can’t feel my way through the bitterness to the angelic delectable flavours of a good cuppa that everyone keeps telling me about.
As the rampant infestation of Starbucks weed their way into every mall, high street, book store and street corner I have felt that I needed to give this life giving exilir even more second chances. The sweet breads, cookies and other baked goods working just like the gingerbread house in Hansel and Gretel luring unspecting non-coffee drinkers like myself into their fold.
Recently I went to lunch with some Starbucks Addicited co-workers. We stopped off at the local for a brew. They asked me what I wanted. I could feel the globuals of sweat beading and pooling on my brow, my breath shortened, panic set it. “I don’t know, uh, well, how about a hot chocolate. . . . . . “
The lady with the spiky pink hair, horn rimmed glasses and the lip ring behind the black laquered counter said something about Ventis and Grandes. I grunted and pointed to the smaller of the two cups she was holding out in front of me.
She Says, Foam or no foam? I Say, Pardon?
She Says, Blended or Stired? I Say, Uhmmm. . . .
She Says, Double blended? I Say, Double who?
She Says, One shot or Double Shot? I Say, So early in the morning?
She Says, Wipped Cream or None? My eyes drew thin, scanning the expansive wall of options – desperatly looking for a picture on which to base my uncharted caffeninated beverage on.
She Says, Milk or low-fat-non-dairy-creamer-subsitute? I Say, Whats the difference?
She Says, Drizzled liquid carmel or chocolate shavings? My heart beating hard against my chest.
She Says, White or milk chocolate? I Say, what about the carmel?
With a smug look and furowed brow I think to myself, does that come in “fair trade”?
I took a deep breath and exhaled with effort. “Excuse, can I change my mind and just order a tea please?”