So, I altered the course of my entire day by going to a different Starbucks than usual this morning on the way to work. Don’t get all grass-roots, anti-commercialism hippie on me – you too have your own Starbucks that you know and love and value above all other Starbucks. You have your baristas that know your drink on sight or at least know how to make your drink the right way. You’re a slave to the green mermaid, just like I am.
So, I go into this new (to me) Starbucks this morning and it was utterly bizarre. It was like walking into someone else’s home for Thanksgiving dinner, completely uninvited. The mom of the house is standing there at a loss, wondering if she should extend an invitation to you and pull down the kids’ computer chair from upstairs so you’ll have a place to sit at the table.
Um, gee…welcome. Have some liver pate; it’s freshly made! I’ll just, um, figure out a way to…accomodate you. It was so…lovely…of you to join us. Yes, lovely………
The dad is eyeing you suspiciously, alternately wondering if you torture small animals and if your appetite for stuffing will exceed his, since Mom only prepared enough for seven after all, and YOU make eight. The kids are ignoring you, hoping you’ll leave soon so they won’t have to make conversation with you. Grandma hasn’t noticed you’ve come in. Uncle Arthur is sitting on his own in a corner, being generally creepy.
Come and gather round, kids. Let me…uh…read you a…story. Yes, a story………
If I haven’t conveyed it to you succinctly enough through the words and pictures above, it was uncomfortable. The barista working the cash register eyed me with the same suspicion. The one behind the bar gave me a wilting look. The customers’ faces were all in tacit agreement: You aren’t one of us. I ordered a coffee and got the hell out of there.
My day just got stranger from there… I arrived at the office to find that someone had left me a five-minute voicemail that sounded eerily like a Muzak version of Christopher Cross’s classic Sailing. Maybe it was Christopher Cross himself. I felt myself obligated to return the “favor,” so I forwarded the voicemail to five other people.
Thanks, “unknown number.” You made my morning.
Later in the afternoon, I discovered the most stunning thing yet about the diet carbonated beverage I adore: TaB. According to the Coca-Cola Bottling Company’s product nutrition information website, TaB comes in the following flavors: cola.
Yeah, I was a little disappointed, too. But TaB has chosen to do one thing and do it well, unlike that floozy Coca-Cola. TaB is ClassY.
Yes, this website actually exists. Go and experience its magnificence for yourself.