Starf**ked
I’ve had it with Starbuck’s. My favorite freaking coffee shop has been Starfucked.
This once was a pleasant enough, genteel sort of place. The kind of place where they did not discriminate hiring on the basis of body art. They would hire people who looked like they bathed, and who could hold five orders in their heads at a time.
But no, it’s been Starfucked, as in bought out by Starbuck’s.
Now you can’t even get a Pitch Weekly. They don’t allow them in the store. They’re FREE for the luvva Fudd, but they’re not allowed to be distributed in the corporate death hole that is Starbuck’s.
Worse, they don’t sell a medium cup of coffee. I walk in, smile my crooked smile and ask for “a medium cup of coffee, please.”
“A Grande drip?” asks the perkyguy.
“No, thank you. I’d like a medium size cup of coffee.”
“We have Tall, Grande and Venti.”
“How horrible for you, that they make an intelligent young man like you say that to college-educated people with a straight face. I want the medium-sized cup of coffee. To go. Please.”
Vente is Italian for twenty. Grande is the name of a rio in Texas. And Tall – Why is the smallest one named Tall? for the same reason 350-lb. bikers are named “Tiny?”
I guess I have to elbow my way up to the counter at Muddy’s from now on.
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