An Oddity At Starbucks

This happened a few months back and is my in-depth observation on todays society, it's nothing personal... I just don't like people very much. I'm kidding of course...

     It was Thursday. It meant late night shopping. It meant trawling around the cosmetics counters with my girlfriend, Mouse, and trying not to get caught eyeing up the plastic-faced beauty consultants (every cloud and all that�). It also meant Starbucks coffee (of which I am fan) and herein lies today�s tale.

     �One small Chai Tea Latte and one medium Caramel Hot Chocolate please mate.� I rummaged around in my pocket for the crumpled up fiver, point blankly refusing to use the words Tall, Grande or Venti; it�s small, medium or large, end of dit.
     �Okay, that�s one tall Chai Tea Latte and one grande Caramel Signature Hot Chocolate, drinking in?� The fresh-faced, waxy-haired and slightly camp young man said flashing me a toothy smile.
     Seriously, who smiles like that at another bloke?
     One small mortgage later, Mouse and I retired to the faux-suede couch overlooking the vending and drinking area. To my chagrin, Mouse immediately began dipping her fingers into my whippy cream and plunging it into her mouth with aplomb and an appreciative mmm-mmmm! �Oh, I want one now,� she said. I sighed, it was always the way.
     Over the next twenty minutes or so, we people watched and bluetoothed unsuspecting coffee drinkers within a 30 foot radius. It was as if all of the South West�s oddities had gravitated to Starbucks in one fell swoop. We watched transfixed as some of the most intriguing customers ever to grace any coffee shop filtered in to leave their indelible mark on the place. Of worthy note, the loud northern family: badly tattooed and slightly TOO LOUD dad with mismatching hair and crap beard, replete with a walking stick that he hardly bothered to use. A dowdy, overweight mum who clearly maintained that the wet-perm look was still a trendy do, in spite of its obvious and all too timely death in the 1980�s. Behind them, the seemingly interbred children in tow: Awful fat, shuffling footed kid in a Manchester United shirt (three seasons old) with quite possibly the worst haircut I have EVER seen � I assume this was groomed to cover a pair of the most outlandish ears ever slapped on the side of a potato head. Next to him, a gangling, pockmark faced, freakishly tall Emo/Goth-teen bedecked in a life-is-s**t Nine Inch Nails tee-shirt and skull and cross bone hi-tops. He seemed to have either swallowed a golf ball or was closing in on a world record breaking Adam�s apple. Behind him, slouched chav-daughter looking dazzlingly stereotypical with gold Creole earrings and Fiddy-Cent knuckle-duster jewellery. With 2lbs of make up and her hair scraped into a side-ponytail she appeared to be walking advertisement for forthcoming teenage pregnancy and Burberry. All three were hardwired into iPods which made ordering coffee a real devil. Clearly this was their first time in a Starbucks; perhaps it was even some sort of twisted daytrip. Oblivious to holding up the other customers they attempted to rein in their brood and order coffee. Now this is something I f*****g hate: The �How big is a large coffee?� debacle.
     ��Ow big�s yer large coffee pal?�
     �This is the Venti.� Holding up the bucket sized mug.
     �Oh that�s too much for you Graeme,� the mum flapped.
     �Yeah, yeah, yeah� �ow big�s yer medium, pal?�
     �This is the Grande.�
     �Oi oi! That�s a size that �un. �Ow big�s yer small?�
     �This is the Tall.�
     For f**k�s sake just order a twatting coffee, it�s not rocket science is it? The dad used his ever so slightly TOO LOUD voice to attempt to articulate his order with a vaguely comical slant. A sort of Roy �Chubby� Brown orders an Americano, if you like. Prick.
     I could see the fresh-faced, waxy-haired, slightly camp fellow behind the counter tighten his grin into a social death mask. I could almost read his thoughts and sympathised. It took some time for the coffees to be ordered and even then they hadn�t realised that they had to wait at the little coffee collection station at the end of the bar. This unfortunately resulted in the coffee-harpy having to sound off. The coffee-harpy in this instance is an�.erm�unusual�. looking girl charged with making and distributing beverages. I say� unusual looking� in sense that it looks rather like she has been catapulted face first into a brick wall at 50mph and then slid downwards causing her features to rearrange themselves randomly; I have nothing against her personally, I�m sure she�s very nice and all, she�s just ugly. Oh and the voice, saints preserve us! Now I do like a girl with an accent, American, French, Spanish, Japanese whatever, it�s all very appealing. But this girl, Jesus wept; she�s like some sort of wailing banshee mishmash of Italian, Dutch and Klingon, pitched perpetually at ear-splitting. I can only equate her voice to the aural version of eating glass, it�s quite astonishing, it really is.
     Anyway, I digress. To cut a long story short, the northern family collected their coffees at the third time of shrieking and it was of little surprise to note that the fat kid had ordered the wrong coffee. He sat and frowned and sulked with his chubby arms crossed over his pot belly, quietly seething, red cheeked and porcine. I would have loved to punch him right in his piggy little face but I fear the authorities would take a decidedly dim view of a 36 year old man whaling on a 12 year old boy in a coffee shop. Don�t get me wrong, I�m not a violent man, I just don�t like fat kids.
     Next into the blender was the whirlwind that Mouse had neatly christened �The Starbucks� Fairy�. As with ugly people (but notwithstanding fat kids), I have nothing against homosexuals although this fellow was more camp than Butlins. Laughingly, he appeared to be all wrists, flapping fingers and tight jeans. He waltzed across the shop floor busying with his fringe and stood with the backs of his hands placed delicately against his snake hips.
     The fresh-faced, waxy-haired chap at the counter gushed a big hiya what can I get you? Well, I guess that answers that then. The Starbucks� Fairy tapped his cheek theatrically as he perused the list before ordering (get this) an Iced Decaf Triple Grande Vanilla Non-fat with whip Latte. The two exchanged some overly protracted pleasantaries and toothy smiles before he sashayed towards the end of the bar and twirled to a standstill. There, much to Mouse�s delight, he decided to stand and stare unflinchingly at me for a while whilst I tried to climb into my Hot Chocolate and pretend that nothing was wrong. Once in possession of his Iced Decaf Triple Grande Vanilla Non-fat with whip Latte, he tangoed fleet of foot across the shop floor and sprang out of the door like a very effeminate gazelle in tight jeans.
     All too soon my medium sized mug was empty and it was time to visit the cosmetics counters and compare fake tanned cleavages. It�s a hard life.

............................

Author's Note

Not very interestingly� The company is named in part after Starbuck, the chief mate character in the book Moby-Dick, as well as a turn-of-the-century mining camp (Starbo or Storbo) on Mount Rainier. Co-founder, Gordon Bowker liked the name Pequod (the ship in the novel), but his creative partner Terry Heckler responded, �No one's going to drink a cup of Pee-quod!� Heckler suggested Starbo. Brainstorming with these two ideas resulted in the company being named for the Pequod's first mate, Starbuck.

Reviews

[.]

It's amazing how you pay attention to each and every details (especially when you're with your girlfriend lol)
I also liked the way you described those emo/goth kids xD
It's an amusing write
Like it
~Kavish~

[JP thinks the WC is apt..]

Ah, the Evil Empire, I know her well. I can also relate to the painted faces of cosmetic shops - for some reason they are irresistable eye candy in a varnished, emulsioned and sellotaped sort of way!

[Brandon Meyers]

Ah, Starbucks. Without you I might not have needed student loans, after all. That, and my list of potential horror story characters would indeed be much shorter.
Nice one, man. You had me in stitches with the bit about inspecting cup sizes.

[Carla (trying to make e..]

someone speaking semi-klingon...oh god...how did you not just break out laughing...I wish my visits to starbucks were 1/2 as enjoyable as yours are..

funny as usual...love it...
The Chick

[Fantasyfairy]

Excellant and amusing. People watching has to be one of the best things to do in a coffee shop, or a cafe. You do see interesting sorts don't you? I must say, I have to agree with you on the fat kids, I do blame the parents and I hate to see them that way, there really is no need for it. A great read. XX

[Rachel Hays]

May I just say, this is fantastic! There's nothing like people watching, or ripping them apart in silence and watching them squirm. I needed a good laugh, a pick me up. You, sir, provided just that. I'll have to keep an eye on you.