Now, I tell you that to tell you this. There was a line full of people of all stripes queuing up for all sorts of complicated libations and all I want is hot, black coffee. These jokers have the gall to get snippy about the perceived Spartan conditions at the airport Starbucks. “There’s no cinnamon, well fine then!” “Excuse me, I ordered a regular triple fat calorie-laden fake-coffee chocolate drink, not a medium double fat half-calorie fake-chocolate coffee drink…gosh, get it right!”
I’m so appalled by this display I don’t even know where to begin, so I guess I’ll begin with me. If you’re looking for an analogy, I guess you could say I’m the Christian Children’s Fund kids and the fussy patrons are Sally Struthers. I don’t need to bear witness to your excesses while I make due without. Some of us have no coffee at all and you’re making a scene over a powder that you’ll never be able to taste anyway? I would have traded places in a heartbeat. You sit here by the single electrical outlet in the entire terminal at the international airport in the nation’s capital. I’ll take your place in line and be damn glad of the opportunity. Ok, that’s thing 1.
Thing 2 is, you’re in an airport filled with places to get coffee. In fact, I don’t think there was a single food outlet that didn’t have some kind of coffee drink available. But you’re here at Starbucks because a) you’re a sissy who can’t take it straight, or be b) you’re a status “lady of the night” and wouldn’t be caught dead with a cup that didn’t have that weird mermaid lady on it. So as far as I’m concerned, your frustration with the airport barrista is a kind of cosmic justice. Of course they don’t have cinnamon. It’s an airport, not a grocery store. They also don’t have turnips or beef tripe. Are you going to whine about that too? Probably not, because putting all that junk in coffee would be weird. Well then, I think I’ve made point (folding hands behind head and stretching out legs while crossing them).
Just in case some of you are not catching my drift (perhaps because you’re berating some poor service employee to cover up your own sense of inadequacy) I’ll put this another way. The world is not here to serve you. If it were, then the check-out lady at the WalMart would not have let you leave the store
looking like that. But she did because it’s not her place to stage an intervention about your horrible, horrible life choices. If you ever find anyone that can stand you, maybe they can take a crack at it. Although heaven help them if they forget to bring the Sweet ‘n Low.
