Woke up a little groggy this morning from last night’s late night wine tasting. Zoe hosts a great tasting party, but the minute she broke out the Pinot Grigio I knew all hopes of avoiding a hangover would have to be abandoned, so I hauled ass to Starbucks before work for a little pick-me-up.
After waiting in line behind a bunch of construction workers and dumpy secretaries (which gave me an opportunity to remind myself that, although some people are less fortunate than me, it doesn’t give them an excuse to take for-freakin-ever ordering their tall chai tea), I finally get to order my usual: A Tall Light Pumpkin Spice Mocha Frappuccino, 1/2 Soy, Easy Whip with a shot of mocha and a dash of ginger. Then the frumpy barista asks me if I want crème, and she adds that, if I do, technically it’s not a Light Frap. It was everything in me not to verbally lash out at this worker bee in a hungover fit of rage. Instead I just bit my tongue and replied with a stern, “I guess we won’t be having crème then will we?”
I expect a certain level of competence from servers, even if it is at a fast-food type place like Starbucks. Did she not think I knew that? Did she not think that maybe I would be going directly to the sweetener kiosk? Whatever. I did go to the sweetener kiosk — my little island of calorie-free chemical confections, where I dumped a small handfull of splenda into my tall Frap before pocketing some napkins and leaving.
Maybe it was bad coffe karma, or the little Starbucks goddess on the cup was cursing me, but halfway to work, I spilled a generous portion of my Frap all over my new Banana Republic cardigan. Some of it also leaked onto the back rest of the driver’s seat of my Audi. I nearly crashed into the car in front of me, but, I was able to pull over to the side before any major catastrophe. Luckily, I happened to have an unopened 16 ounce bottle of Lemon Perrier which I was able to use to blot up the spilled Frap and satiate the thirst the Frappuccino was supposed to quench.
| Caffe Vanilla Frappuccino |
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