So... I was in my local (Lynn Valley) Starbucks the other day, feigning interest in buying a small sack of Blonde Roast Veranda Blend while waiting for my order to be whipped up, when a guy wandered in and asked for a coffee. Clearly (and remarkably), he’d never come across (or at least ordered java from) a Starbucks before.
Because, in our brave, new 21st Century world where the number of choices for types and strains and flavours and sizes and places to buy/drink coffee is enough to make your brain explode, specificity is crucial. Particularly at Starbucks. At least if you want to avoid being metaphorically caught with your pants around your ankles.
The server (or partner, as Starbucks likes to call its minimum-wage staff to make them feel more distinguished and important) looked at the guy (let’s call him Guy) like he had three heads. Like that was the most ridiculous question in the history of mankind.
As if to say: “You want a what?!”
What she actually said (or would have said had I actually been within earshot of the conversation and not making this up), was (sparking the ensuing dialogue):
Starbucks Partner (SBP): What kind of roast would you like?
Guy: Roast? Um… chicken? I haven’t had a good Sunday dinner in a while. Could I get a coffee, too?
SBP: No, roast of coffee, sir – blonde, medium or dark?
Guy: Um... well... blonde? Hmm... that sounds a little lady-like, and I’m a man’s man—don’t want to come across as effeminate. Scratch that one. Medium? Then I’ll be Mr. Average… I’m so much more than that. Dark (& mysterious)... yes, that’s me. A little edgy (at least since he decided to grab a coffee at Starbucks).
SBP: Size?
Guy: Size?
SBP: Short, Tall, Grande, Venti or Trenta?
Guy: Trenta?* Isn’t that like ‘30’ in Spanish or something? 30 litres of coffee in one cup? Wow. Tall sounds pretty big. Go on, I’m feeling lucky, let’s go for a tall. I’m only 5-ft 7, though… do I still qualify? (in case it’s like a fairground ride where you have to meet those height requirements).
SBP: Regular, Latte, Mocha, Expresso or Frappucino?
Guy: Al Pacino? You have a coffee drink named after the film legend? That’s amazing. I’ll take one of those. Could you also do me a Godfather Latte to go?
The server pretends not to hear. The confusing back-and-forth continues back and forth for what seems like hours, until a bewildered and bamboozled Guy staggers off in the wrong direction (trying to locate the drink collection counter), feeling like he’s gone 10 rounds with Mike Tyson (when Iron Mike was in his prime... and known as Iron Mike).
Ordering a coffee these days requires military-style preparation -- and precision in executing the plan (your order). Once you’ve navigated your way through the 15,000 different coffee shop chains/options in your town or city (including Starbucks, Tim Hortons, Blenz, Roastz, Waves, Ripples, Second Cup, Third Cup, Café Art Iguanas etc.), you have to study the menu (you can do this online if you have access to the InterWeb) with the same intensity used (and pressure felt) by an arts major revising for a crucial high school chemistry exam.
The only real difference is that it’s actually useful to retain this information (your carefully crafted and memorized order, that is) longer than 24 hours (for future coffee jaunts) – providing you don’t fluff your lines and leave mentally/emotionally scarred. It’s OK to have the order written down as back-up – just in case your Starbucks (or selected coffee-house) partner chooses to confirm one piece of the puzzle in a different order to which you memorized it… the order… at which point all the vital information scatters from your head like a flock of resting seagulls being chased from a harbour pier by a Bull Terrior on speed.
Fail to prepare and prepare to fail, as they say (those esteemed prophets of wisdom). You can always tell which customers blew their audition; they’re the ones sitting sheepishly by the window trying to subtly shield their Short, Regular, green tea from public view. They’d stridden in purposefully with dreams of a Grande Decaf Skinny Pumpkin Spice Banana Extra-Shot Latte, only to be spellbound by the amazing array of cakes and mouth-watering baked goods on offer and completely lose their train of thought… crumbling mentally as soon as the director cried “Action!”
Yes, make no mistake about it, ordering a java these days is not for the faint-hearted. However, I’ve chosen to embrace the complexities, and am actually a Starbucks fan. There’s something about that homely, inviting atmosphere which ignites my inner cappucino (or should that be Al Pacino?) and leaves me feeling all warm and fuzzy inside (plus, I'm now a Gold Card member and get a free drink every 15 stars).
But I always go prepared… and memorize my lines ahead-of-time (Grande decaf Skinny Gingerbread Soy Latte... garnished with a sprinkle of cinammon, splash of nutmeg and pinch of vanilla, please).
I don’t want to be that Guy caught Short being made a Mocha-ry of. Cap(uccino)iche?
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