Starbucks sucks

Here is a summary of my experience today.

I'm in line behind two people, and the Starperson operating the 'espresso' machine asks if she can take my order.

Me: I would like a twelve ounce drip with room please.

Her:(Silence)

All I get in response is a blank look. Nothing. Not an invitation to supper, not a blistering attack on my choice of shirt, nothing.

My turn then comes at the cash register.

Me: I gave my order to the person over there. (Pointing at the person over there.) Didn't she tell you?

Other Her: No.

Me: Oh, in that case, I would like a twelve ounce drip with room please.

Other Her: I'm sorry, we're out of regular coffee.

At this point I'm feeling like these people are, as they say in courtroom dramas, being unresponsive.

Me, exasperatedly: Okay, I'll have a twelve ounce decaf with room.

Other her: Grande drip decaf.

Me, grinding teef: I don't understand why I was asked for my order twice. If she (gesticulating at the first her) isn't prepared to prepare my beverage, why ask? (My language not quite as proper as that, and what I wanted to say was much less proper.)

Other her, tetchily: Well, she asks in case you have a drink she can make. (Meaning espresso-based.)

Me: So I have to give my order twice, to two different people, to fit in with your work process. (Again, not verbatim, but close enough.)

Other her: Well, that's the way we do it.

Me: Mutter.

From my very first time there, the naming conventions at Starbucks grated on my nerves.

Don't make me say Grande when I want a medium coffee.

Don't make me say Venti when I want a large coffee.

Frappuccino is not a word.

If I choose not to use your lame names, don't correct me, especially in that superior Starbucks tone, like I'm some kind of rainforest lizard.

Condescension is Starbucks' forte, and for that, they deserve to fail.

Here's my friend Elle's experience with dopey Starbucks fools.

Seriously. Did anyone at Seattle HQ think about this for more than a day?

What is up with that sleeve thingy? As an interim measure until they received actual insulated cups, I would have understood. But this insanity is decades old now.

Real life teaches us that the cardboard ring:

A. Falls off.

B. Gets lost.

C. Doesn't insulate all that well even if it does stay attached.

D. Makes having coffee more complex than it has any right to be.

E. Gets my goat because recycling paper cups uses more energy, creates more waste, and costs more than using, for eg: a McDonald's style cup. (Which, incidentally, actually insulates, like a hot-drink cup is supposed to.)

Then again, as an eco-wacko left-wing organization, Starbucks overweening desire to be as PC as possible is all about being seeeeeen to be doing the right thing. We all want to feeeeeel better when we drink coffee.

Blech.

Standing in line at the dreaded Stupidbucks, the employee behind the espresso machine sometimes asks:

"Can I start a drink for you? "

Firstly, if you're standing behind the counter one presumes you can - the question should be

"May I start a drink for you?"

Secondly, when I ask for a non-espresso drink, you all, every last one of you, give the Starbucks Look. The Look communicates your contempt and disgust that my chosen drink is as simple as plain filtered coffee. Because this does not require your inestimable skill as a barista (note sarcasm) you Look again, and simply ignore me.

Now I have to repeat the order for the person willing to take the twenty seconds necessary to fill a twelve ounce cup with hot liquid. Again, I, the customer, must adapt to the Starbucks regimen, and no meddling is allowed with that.

The alternative is for me to explain myself to the barista, telling them that although they have asked what I want, and I am the customer, they really aren't prepared to get me my drink, instead giving me The Look. It therefore is in my interest not to tell you what I want, because I might as well save it for the one person who will attend to me.

Which is all another complete waste of my time.

Effing idiots.

Last night at Tampa Airport, I realized it was time to eat. About eight hours too late; I'd been busy. With only a few minutes to spare, I figured an raisin oatmeal cookie would be the least worst thing.

Yep, more fool me, I walked up to the Starbucks counter, prepared to give them money in exchange for victuals.

The young lady standing at the cash register looked at me, and asked if she could help me.

Yes, I said. I would like a raisin oatmeal cookie, please.

Oh, she said, I'm sorry but I can't do that.

Of course I paused and looked at her.

Would you say that again? I asked.

If you want to buy a cookie, you'll have to go over there - pointing the the other register - and get them to serve you.

But YOU asked me if you could help me.

Yes, but I can only make coffee.

I hate Starbucks, I hate Starbucks, I HATE STARBUCKS.

Travelling east along Interstate 4 the other day, insanity overcame me. Again. Yep, I figured I'd risk another foray into Stupidbucks, because I was gagging for something to eat, and I'm always gagging for coffee.

I have frequented this particular outpost of Howard's empire before, and been averagely disgusted. It's at exit 19, in case anyone's interested.

The young man behind the counter was fluffing around doing something tangential to serving me. He piped up, promising to "be with" me in a second. Several seconds - verging on minutes - later, he faced me over the counter.

I asked him for my usual twelve-ounce decaf drip with room. He began messing with the cups, and then asked again:

What was that again?

Twelve ounce decaf drip with room.

While he was siphoning my drink from the container, he asked:

Would you like room for cream?

I kid you not. This is another Starbucks idiot without ANY memory capability. Already, in two minutes I have expressed my preference twice, and he had forgotten twice, in two minutes.

Presenting the sandwich I wanted for my lunch, he entered the price of that into the cash register. Pause.

Would you like something from the pastry case?

At this point I'm beyond thinking. I just looked at him, my sandwich, the coffee, and back at him. Had he not noticed me spending all my waiting time perusing the baked goods?

No, thank you. I shall have the sandwich only for lunch.

I. Will. Not Learn.

Yes, Starbuckszombies, you win again. Turns out that your precious dollars flow unimpeded to the hands of one of your hated 1%ers, in this case the inestimable Howard Shultz. Funny that I congratulate Mr Shultz on his entrepreneurial and management expertise; so many Starbuckszombies oppose free markets. Ironic, no?

Let's review: Mr Schultz takes one espresso bar in Seattle and morphs it into an international sensation. I take issue with the corporation's idea of customer service, and say so. Nevertheless, it's clear that bad coffee, horrible customer service and fascist tendencies appeal to a LOT of people. I choose to take coffee elsewhere: idiots remain Starbucks customers and vilify me for my criticism.

Bring it on.