My actions would indicate that I was born in a third-world country and shipped to America during the prime age of adolescence.Neither deprived nor from foreign lands, I was generally awkward in social situations and life in general.
Sure, I had friends and could chew gum while window-shopping with them on occasion, but hadn’t noticed that unless introduced to such things I was hopeless. So, what’s with Starbucks?
My first encounter with the café was when I lived in a developing city, watching friends dribble over something called ‘Mocha Frappuccino.’Though what made Starbucks memorable was a particular time I ventured in alone, and didn’t know what to order.Standing behind that sleek counter and hearing vicious machines whir and pound helpless coffee beans from Brazil made me almost nauseous.Gurgling temptations to adjust my glasses and view the blurry menu overtook me.Why?I couldn’t drink coffee or stand smelling Folders when grownups would have their daily ‘caffeine-wake-up-call.’ So, how did I end up at a famous world class coffee shop? I only wanted a ‘drink,’ which was an excuse to stay inside a trendy place and pretend to wait for someone, too.In actuality, I would be busily typing a report for Biology due the next day.
Soon seconds ticked to “Thank-you—May I help the next customer?”, and equipping me with one robotic phrase.
“One Mocha Frappuccino.”
Forgetting the ‘please’ and pointing a devastated five dollar bill towards the clerk, I also noticed there was a space between the breath of words I whispered and the lady-clerk which spelt weird.But I was more afraid Ms. Carry (her name tag) would say, “I’m sorry Mocha Frappuccino’s were ten years ago…they’re gone now.”
Instead of the dreaded reply, she asked, “What size?”
“Decaf?No I don’t know what size that is.But small…Small is always small.” I thought, “At least I won’t suffocate from larger portions of MO-chaness.”
Confidently, I proclaimed, “Small!”
The wait was exactly five minutes and ten seconds until employee Bob yelled, “One small Mocha Frappuccino!”
Grabbing the drink without saying a word, I relocated to a private sector far from the pick-up line.I made it. SURVIVAL-OF-THE-FITTEST.
Onion Skins and Mocha Frappuccino
January 7, 2008 at 8: 51 pm01 (Social Commentary)
My actions would indicate that I was born in a third-world country and shipped to America during the prime age of adolescence. Neither deprived nor from foreign lands, I was generally awkward in social situations and life in general.
Sure, I had friends and could chew gum while window-shopping with them on occasion, but hadn’t noticed that unless introduced to such things I was hopeless. So, what’s with Starbucks?
My first encounter with the café was when I lived in a developing city, watching friends dribble over something called ‘Mocha Frappuccino.’ Though what made Starbucks memorable was a particular time I ventured in alone, and didn’t know what to order. Standing behind that sleek counter and hearing vicious machines whir and pound helpless coffee beans from Brazil made me almost nauseous. Gurgling temptations to adjust my glasses and view the blurry menu overtook me. Why? I couldn’t drink coffee or stand smelling Folders when grownups would have their daily ‘caffeine-wake-up-call.’ So, how did I end up at a famous world class coffee shop? I only wanted a ‘drink,’ which was an excuse to stay inside a trendy place and pretend to wait for someone, too. In actuality, I would be busily typing a report for Biology due the next day.
Soon seconds ticked to “Thank-you—May I help the next customer?”, and equipping me with one robotic phrase.
“One Mocha Frappuccino.”
Forgetting the ‘please’ and pointing a devastated five dollar bill towards the clerk, I also noticed there was a space between the breath of words I whispered and the lady-clerk which spelt weird. But I was more afraid Ms. Carry (her name tag) would say, “I’m sorry Mocha Frappuccino’s were ten years ago…they’re gone now.”
Instead of the dreaded reply, she asked, “What size?”
“Decaf? No I don’t know what size that is. But small…Small is always small.” I thought, “At least I won’t suffocate from larger portions of MO-chaness.”
Confidently, I proclaimed, “Small!”
The wait was exactly five minutes and ten seconds until employee Bob yelled, “One small Mocha Frappuccino!”
Grabbing the drink without saying a word, I relocated to a private sector far from the pick-up line. I made it. SURVIVAL-OF-THE-FITTEST.
…