The other day I get to school early to get a coffee for the fiance before class and naturally encounter a ridiculous line. (That was part of the idiot problem too, lines everywhere as though everyone woke up from a week long nap and wanted to get in my way.) So anyway, the employees at the Starbucks are actually pretty efficient until some weirdo tries to order some ridiculous drink. When did this happen? When did coffee become so complicated? When I was young coffee was either black or with a packet of sugar, and maybe some half and half. These days it's either skinny, upside down, extra hot, steamed, molested, iced, or any other strange thing you can imagine. Why can't people just man up and drink coffee the way it was meant to be consumed? Hot, black, and with enough caffeine to keep you up all night. But I digress.
So anyway, I'm standing in line and this guy two people ahead of me orders a strawberries and cream Frappucino. I'll repeat it for those of you who missed it. Strawberries and cream Frappucino. I'm sorry, but no self-respecting man should order a fruity Frappucino. Shouldn't the same principles that apply at a bar apply at Starbucks? Men don't walk into a bar and order Appletinis, Cosmos, scooby snacks, bay breezes--even Long Island's are a tad questionable. I know they taste good, and I'm all for being metrosexual or whatever, but lines must be drawn somewhere. I say we establish some defining gender roles here and now. Men should stick to beers, whiskeys, vodka tonics (no vodka Sprites, no vodka cranberrys), and women can drink all the sweet sugary stuff. That's just the way it should be, and these rules should carry over from the bars into coffee shops and any other place where a manly drink can be ordered over some sort of fruity concoction. So Strawberries and Cream Frappucino guy, order a tall, black coffee next time. It'll put some much needed hair on your balls, and it also takes less time so I can get my vanilla, carmel, white chocolate, skinny, half-sugar, triple shot, extra hot, soy latte. Thanks.
After class I needed to go the bank, a chore I avoid at all possible costs. Not because I dislike the bank, my bank actually doesn't dick me over like most people's banks, but for some reason I always show up when everyone else does. I can go at 9am, 12:46pm, or pm, and there is always a line. Today I was blessed with the old man who is apparently the Romeo of the san marcos credit union. On occasion he is known to bring in gifts for the tellers (females only, sorry dudes) and chats them up with all his free time. Not that there is anything wrong with this, and he is probably the nicest old man in the world, but shit, I just wanna deposit my paychecks, get my Andrew jacksons and be on my way. But alas, I get to stand in line with the guy I almost ran over in the parking lot, some lady who keeps letting people go ahead of her while she waits for her favorite teller, and a big fat guy who looks like John Goodman in "O Brother Where Art Thou" --same outfit and everything, sans eyepatch-- while Old Man Winter tells the teller all about his dog and why he's withdrawing 200 dollars for his dog.
Maybe it's just me, but I try to be considerate of others when out in public. I don't aimlessly wheel my shopping cart around oblivious to people behind me who want to get by, and I also don't take up customer service personnel's time when there is a line behind me. If Old Man Winter walks into the bank and no one else is there, he should feel free to talk all day long, but when lines are forming, stick to the business at hand. This is not to discount formal pleasantries, and a bit of small talk here and there, but when your talking interferes with the conduction of business, you need to keep the mouth shut.
Well, I've got to get ready to go. gotta be somewhere not very important to do some very important things. And I have to pee.
No comments:
Post a Comment