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.
Continue reading Excerpts from Suburbia : Starbucks
Starbucks was once a place I avoided at all costs; my temporary occupation as a writer, though, has all but forced me to embrace the Seattle Satan in my everyday routine. It’s not all bad, it serves its purpose, and from time to time it’s a thoroughly enjoyable couple of hours. Some aspects, however, I just can’t deal with.
The Impatient Barista
Here’s a typical exchange between myself and the green-aproned soul taking my order :
ME : “I’ll have a Grande Hazelnut Coffee…an-“
BARISTA : “Ok is that all?” Continue reading Shit That Needs to Stop : Starbucks
Just about every fast food joint or American-style coffee shop in Paris is a clusterfuck. This is a given. The high-turnover nature of the service, combined with the perception of it being an oasis for weary, homesick Americans looking for a place to regroup and argue over how the Metro works and which line would be best make it so. Side note : from experience, the woman is always right in these arguments. This is not ass-kissing to the ladies : I stand by my assertion that their driving directional skills are suspect – but for some reason, they’ve got mass transit down.
Continue reading Paris : Day 7 – Bathroom Rescue