Escaping from starbux - Eine story aus alt.coffee

Hallo!

Ich hab vorhin auf alt.coffee eine geniale Geschichte gefunden, Kaffeefreunde können die Gedanken des Authors sicher nachvollziehen...

Original von Don Task einem regelmässigen Mitglied von alt.coffee

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I have no one to blame but myself. Even knowing all the dangers, I
paid a visit to Starbucks anyway.

Last night my wife and I were about an hour or so into our drive home
after visiting nearby family. The roads were clear but the air was
cold and we still had a good hour of driving to go before we reached
the safety of home. I noticed we were getting low on gas. Not wanting
to entertain the thought of running out of fuel on such a blustery
night, I started looking for a gas station. Like a beacon in the
night, a brightly lit shopping center with a corner gas station was
approaching on the right. I pulled in. After all, the gas prices were
very reasonable and the bright lights gave it a friendly atmosphere.

Little did I know what evil was awaiting me.

After paying for the gas and returning to the car my wife turns to me
and says, "Please don't go nuts on me Coffee boy, but there's a
Starbux next door and I'd like really to get a decaf Caffe Mocha."

Holy Crap... did she really say that? Before I could say anything she
went on to say "I know its Starbux and I know it won't be anywhere as
good as the coffee you make and I know the coffee will taste burnt,
but I want one anyway"

Yes... she calls me Coffee boy <sigh>. It's a pet name she gave me
some time ago, right after I finished relaying the latest coffee
stories from alt.coffee, or news of the latest espresso machine
debate... or maybe it was a report on my latest roast. I can't really
say for certain but since that day the moniker has followed me. She
says I've earned it. Now she calls me Coffee boy whenever the topic of
conversation turns to coffee. She thinks I'm obsessed.

Truth be known, I'd probably rather have been anointed Sex Boy.
Problem is, if I spent as much time discussing sex, in the same
exacting details that I do coffee, she would have left me a long time
ago.

Alas, I regress.

My jaw must have dropped as I stared back at her. I could only say,
"Knowing the quality of their coffee, why would you want it?" She
replied, It's cold and I'm freezing." "Good or bad it will warm me up,
and if nothing else I'll just hold the cup to warm my hands."

A hand warmer... Maybe Starbux coffee is good for something. How could
I argue with her logic. I conceded

We enter Starbux. Cautiously I look around . I find myself worrying
foolishly as I study the cameras behind the register. Fearing the
cameras will reveal my presence to alt.coffee via an unknown Starbux
webcam. The fear that a fellow altie may discover my treasonous act
and turn me over to the AC police. Am I really standing in a Starbux?
A wave of guilt settles over me. The thought of the impending
humiliation makes me grind my teeth. How could I have let my wife drag
me in here?

My mouth goes dry. I want to get in and out before anybody recognizes
me. Thankfully, I shake the feeling, the cameras lose their menacing
glare. But the relief is short lived. A new fear takes its place. The
hair on the back of my neck stands up as an even larger fear takes
hold of me. The fear of hearing someone shout "Don? Don Task? Is that
you?" "Don who has enough money tied up in coffee equipment to pay off
the national debt... what the hell are you doing in a Starbux?" I
break into a cold sweat.

My wife sees the panic in my eyes and hopes they'll be able to serve
us quickly. Our finances our sound, and money is not especially tight,
but she knows we don't have enough for both my espresso habit and my
potential sessions with a therapist as a result of this visit.

Thank God, except for the two employees behind the counter, the place
is empty. The odds off meeting someone I know diminish but I turn my
back to the cameras just in case.

Two "young" employees, both male. I quickly make a mental note of
their appearance. I first notice the young man with rather large gold
hoop earrings in both ears. No big deal I think to myself, at least
he's wearing a long sleeve white dress shirt. But, on closer
inspection, the translucent quality of the material fails to obscure
the arms of Ozzy Osborne. Tattoos from wrist to armpit! At this
distance the hole in the bridge of his nose and bottom lip also come
into focus. Evidently employees are discouraged from displaying their
face ornaments while sporting the Starbux apron.

The other one has dreadlocks. My gaze is momentarily transfixed on the
condition of his hair. It resembles the coat of a dog who hasn't seen
a brush in several years. My estimate puts their ages to be about 20
and 23 years respectively. Old enough to have learned the techniques
of a Barista, but my coffee warning sensors are firing. "Go... go
now... escape before it too late". I heed the warning and decide to
leave, but my wife is already being greeted at the counter.

My wife, less interested in attempting to judge a persons ability
based on their appearance, has already scoped out the equipment. With
eyes as big as saucers she turns to me and whispers, "The portafilters
aren't mounted"

Now I want to run but she senses my panic and takes my arm. Although I
know better I speak, "Are you getting ready to close?" To which they
respond in unison "No". I then said, "The only reason I asked is
because I noticed the portafilters aren't mounted"

The younger of the two simply says "What?" I replied, "The
portafilters" and I pointed to them lying on the drain tray. He
replied: "Oh, you mean the coffee handles. (I swear!)

I can only stammer, my mind cannot completely grasp what I've just
heard. "Ah, er' um", is all I can manage to say. I make a mental
note... never before has the word dumbstruck had such profound
meaning.

The young man oblivious to my plight speaks again... "I wipe down the
machine every night after the evening rush so its easier for me to
clean when its time to close."

Frightened of the possible reply, I can't help myself and ask anyway
"When is your evening rush" He replied. "It typically stars around 4
PM and drops off about 7."

I glance at my watch... Its 8:15. Help me Jesus! I start taking deep
breaths. Don's alter ego whispers in my ear and taunts me for being so
stupid, "Hmmm... the portafilters have only been cooling for an hour
and 15 minutes... how bad could the coffee be?

My wife senses the situation and intercedes. Like a crocodile building
strength for a death roll, she knows I'm about to snap. Its late, and
she wants to get back on the road, there's no time for Don Task to
come out of hiding an launch into one of his "How to make espresso"
lectures. Shes heard it too many times already.

After glancing at the menu my wife decides against the caffe mocha and
says, "I'll take a large decaf Caramel Macchiato with skim milk."

The older kid simply says "Oh", turns to the younger one and says, "I
don't know how to make one of those."

Every muscle in my body locks. My head is whirling as a new fear takes
hold of me. I think I hear voices... "Hello Don, welcome to the
Twilight Zone. You'll never escape. You are doomed forever to repeat
this visit to the Starbux from Hell"

The younger kid speaks up and says to the other kid, "It's easy I'll
show you." He then picks up a bottle of vanilla syrup and unscrews the
pump. Why he unscrews the pump I don't know... I don't want to know...
I just want to go home.

Anyway he pours about an inch of the syrup into a cup and the other
kid says, "Hey, that's not right!"

I think to myself he's going to tell him to use the pump and count the
strokes, but that was not the case.

The kid making the drink says, "You said you didn't know how to make
one so how do you know if this is right or not?" The other replies,
"I'm not sure but I don't think you use vanilla syrup in a Caramel
Macchiato"

Mr. Gold Earrings says "Yes you do, smell...!"... and takes the cup,
in which he's preparing my wifes drink, and shoves it under the nose
of Mr. Dreadlocks.

Like a car accident in progress, everything goes into slow motion,
Nooooo... I see the cup moving towards his nose. On route to the nose
the cup brushes the upper lip of Mr. Dreadlocks raising it for a brief
second before it flops back into place. I try to close my eyes but
can't. I can only continue to stare in disbelief as the coffee cup
they are preparing for my wife, is now resting firmly under the
nostrils of Mr. Dreadlocks. He take a serious wiff. Every fiber of my
being recoils, I can actually hear the whistling of air as it passes
over the hair of his nasal passages. He replies ""Oh yeah, I think
your right."

I can't breathe... my brain is screaming for my feet to run, but I
can't move. As the strains of the latest soundtrack from a Starbux CD
plays in the background, I feel hysteria approaching me from all
sides. This experience has now surpassed the limits of my
comprehension. Instead of shrieking in horror, my mind retreats. In my
mind, I'm no longer stuck in an episode of the Twilight Zone, but at
home in the comfort of my kitchen, smiling as I watch the flashing
lights of my Techno as it awakens from Eco mode.

Wait... I hear something... its my wifes voice... she's speaking.
Thank God my wife has come to her senses. As I feel myself being led
to the door I hear her say, "Never mind" we'll go to another Starbux
by our house, one where they have finished training the employees." As
the door closes behind us I hear one of them yell out, "No wait... I
really do know how to make it, please give us a chance."

She apologizes and thoughtfully leads me back to the car. Once again
in the comfort of our vehicle I slowly return to reality. My wife is
the first to speak.

She said, "After watching his nasty lip and nose drag across the top
of my cup I no longer wanted anything they had to serve. Then she
quickly added, "Not only did they not have a clue as to what they were
doing, but during all that conversation and discussion of what I
wanted and how to make it and if they were using the right syrup, they
never mounted the portafilters even after you brought it to their
attention."

A tear forms briefly in the corner of my eye before descending my
cheek. Hallelujah! She has been listening to me all this time. She is
learning. I could only look at her and smile. I found instant relief
in her words for I realized there is still hope. Hope that in the not
too distant future, the word Starbux will fade from her vocabulary.

In retrospect, the experience wasn't entirely bad. As our car entered
the highway we both started talking at the same time. Laughing as we
began recalling the events of our visit. Having fun role playing as we
elaborated on the conversations of our most memorable Starbux
employees.

"Excuse me, is the manager in? I seem to have found a nose hair in my
coffee" or, "Gee.... I don't believe I've ever seen green crema
before"

My wife and I talked all the way home. One solid hour of coffee
related conversation. I was in heaven. Thank you Starbux.

Don Task [email protected]

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regards Michael

 

Ich hab mich auch gefühlt als würde ich gerade an der Bar dieses Starbucks stehen. Dabei hab ich mich gefragt was ich wohl gedacht hätte in dieser Situation. Allein schon die ausgehängten, kalten Siebträger - was hätte ich gemacht wenn mir Mr. Dreadlocks einen Espresso damit gemacht hätte, was sagt man da? Hey du musst den Siebträger vorwärmen damit der Espresso gut wird? Natürlich hätte ich in der Situation keinen Espresso geordert, aber allein die Vorstellung lässt mir meine Nackenhaare zu berge stehen

Solche Storys gehören eigentlich abgedruckt.

regards Michael