Why Starbucks?

Ever wonder what the fascination is with a good cup of Starbucks? I don’t know if it’s so much the coffee as it is the image, the  great taste, the killer euphoric caffeine buzz or the people. Go to a Starbucks and sit back, but sit close to the ordering counter area so you can hear the orders as they are being called out. “Trenta Iced Pomegranate Vanilla 5-Shot Espresso, Sweetened, Non-Fat, Extra Ice for Karen”. WTF, who drinks this sh*t? Better yet who wants to be around Karen after she gets crazy eyes? Better yet, who the f@&# wants to be in the same work environment as Karen?

Karen, a fine-looking 25’ish, brunette wearing stilts, looks like she’s beginning to shake violently form either a caffeine deprivation, or a continuation of the previous cup. She’s obviously wearing those tight stockings to keep her slender frame from collapsing when she begins her decent toward the mixing table to add more sugar and cinnamon. She the grabs a handful of napkins to stuff in her purse. Hmmmm, what are those for? Perhaps an emergency back-up for a eminent hazardous waste spill; ’cause what she is about to drink could legitimately be classified as a RCRA classified category 5 hazardous waste.

Karen, then sits in the corner near me and is joined by some motley looking dude wearing a wife-beater and supporting his crippled ass with one crutch. He had ordered a small hot chocolate with extra whipped cream. You should have seen the cream shot from the lid as it was snapped into place. Looked like the ending of some XXX movie. The barista then cleans the shot off of the stack of cups awaiting their concoctive fill with a damp wash cloth. Gross…you’d think there would be some kinda law against displaying such bazaar affection at the coffee shop.

I had ordered my standard personal buzz mechanism and was sitting back listening to Karen and Schlocco (new name) talking about a bag that he had just found outside the door before he walked in. They were talking quietly so it was hard to hear clearly but I was still able to listen with great curiosity to their conversation. Schlocco had said that he wanted to keep the bag and its contents. Karen, taking another drink from her “high-ball” caffeine infused polar refreshment, looked inside the bag and told him he needs to take it to the counter and turn it in. Schlocco looks inside the bag one more time, quickly curls the opening up tightly like a bag of potato chips, then places it under the table where they sat.

Another 10-15 minutes goes by, and after several more small words about the bag being turned into the same barista that still had a whipped cream splatter on her black apron, the two get up and very quickly walk out the door. I knew they weren’t coming back for the bag because Karen said to “just leave it”. I eye-ball the bag and then looked at the door to see if they were coming back. A quick glance around the joint to see if anyone else just saw them and possibly heard their conversation, but we were kind of in a corner of the place by ourselves. So I make my move and quickly open the bag to see what they left behind. I was totally shocked. I was flabbergasted. I was amazed and yet confused as to why they left behind this…this, when it could have been theirs to keep. But now it was mine. You know what was in the bag??? Same made up story that I’m telling you!

Enjoy your coffee responsibly.



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