Let’s first address any confusion that might stem from the title and/or existence of this article. This is not an installment of Shit That Needs to Stop, as I have already addressed the most egregious missteps possible at a Starbucks in a previous post.
No, this is the second installment of the award-winning series Excerpts from Suburbia, and it focuses on the quirks and foibles of, and anecdotes from, local Starbucks locations.
Before we did rage-inducing irritations. Now we do cute idiosyncrasies and stories. Good? Good.
Anyway, without further ado (and I’ve already ado’d the shit out of this), on to Excerpts From Suburbia : Starbucks.