Dear Anonymous Starbucks Baristas,
I never thought that making Starbucks beverages was that complicated. Starbucks is basically fast food. And I say this as someone who drinks at least one Starbucks beverage every single day of my life.
But apparently there is a lot that baristas think the unwashed masses don’t understand about frothing milk, so: okay. This Valentine’s Day, I don’t have a heterosexual male to buy a Hallmark card and wear uncomfortable lingerie for. So my love letter is to you, Starbucks baristas. Specifically, the baristas who don’t screw up my order.
I don’t think my orders are difficult. I’m not one of those “triple skinny half-caf no foam sugar free” types. (And yes, I realize that drink doesn’t make any sense.) I either order a peppermint mocha or a hot chocolate, and sometimes in summer, I’ll order a Frappuccino. I’ve watched these drinks being made hundreds, if not thousands of times over the years and I know they involve a few basic squirts, pouring milk, and maybe a spin in the blender.
And yet … so many drinks have not been what I ordered.
My personal theory, from watching how many, many, many drinks get screwed up over the years, is this: most drinks get ruined when the cashier calls out the order instead of writing it down themselves. I am convinced that most of these screwups happen because the Starbucks employees are chatting with each other and they’re too distracted to write order down properly. And I’m not the only person with this gripe: there was an entire “Saturday Night Live” skit about them!
I am aware this is the mother of all “white whines.” Life must be pretty rough if my $5.17 beverage being made wrong is a big annoyance in my day, right? I know. But the same time, those drinks are expensive. I’m shelling out the money at Starbucks instead of, say Dunkin’ Donuts or Coffee Bean or any of the hundreds of other places I could get coffee in New York City.
So, it’s sad in a way, that I have to especially single out the people who do their jobs well. It’s the kind of job where it’s either done right or wrong; there isn’t any wriggle room. But the good news is that means you are my Valentines, Starbucks baristas who don’t screw up my order.
So thanks, guys. I really do fucking love you.
Contact the author of this post at Jessica@TheFrisky.com. Follow me on Twitter.