Every morning I give into the outrageously expensive but comforting familiarity of a morning stop at Starbucks. The money doesn’t really bother me (as long as I don’t realize what I could have bought with a month’s worth of wasted star-bucks), what bothers me is the communication chaos I subject myself to before I’ve had my caffeine.
Each trip to Starbucks is like playing a game of telephone. You tell the girl with the head set what you want and your name. She repeats your order over and over, like she’s reporting to the control tower, but Houston we have no receiver. Your order goes down the line of uninterested employees until it comes out as something very different than what you said.
I do find some humor in the whole cluster-buck. I’m starting to judge my day based by the name that was written on “my” cup. I don’t give a fake name for amusement; my attempt to give my own name provides enough entertainment. My Starbucks name of the day has started to serve as a daily horoscope.
The day I was Karen was a good day. I was on time, worked well with others and was productive. Karen was handed her coffee and then her day was handed to her also.
The day I was Natasha was a day full of emotions. I think I grabbed this drink out of frustration and impatience, so I bet Natasha had a bad start to her day too. I was irritable all day long, I even complained about the cream Natasha ordered instead of skim milk.
The day of Keith was a day full of challenges, as I think it would be if I were named Keith. My mom claimed they were going to name me Keith if I was a boy in the baby book I made her make me when I was a teenager feeling the neglect of the “surprise” my parents claimed I was. I’m glad I wasn’t a boy.
Erin day comes about twice a month, which I blame on my blundering over my “R’s”. I don’t like when it’s Erin day because she usually turns out to be a not so great people person. When I’m Erin it means I was awkward when I ordered and then I usually carry (Kerri) that awkwardness with me throughout the day.
I can’t even count the number of times I have been Mary. I’m starting to respond to it.
Today I am Kelly. The barista was super excited to give me my drink and said “Kelly” an unnecessary amount of times in our brief encounter. “Kelly, I have your drink”, “There you go, Kelly”, “Have a great day, Kelly.” I’m thinking about changing my name.
Either way, Starbucks call me what ever name you want, just get me my drink.