Way too much coffee. But if it weren’t for the coffee, I’d have no identifiable personality whatsoever. ~David Letterman
Coffee. Nectar of the gods. The reason I manage to drag myself out of bed in the morning. Who am I kidding? I’m basically a Millennial- so early afternoon.
I opt for Tim’s most of the time because my bank roll implores me, but have no doubt my stop of choice is Starbucks. It is not unusual that I pop my head into Tim’s, see the line-up verges on ridiculous, and make a beeline for my favourite sugary sweet concoction masquerading as caffeine: Venti 1 pump caramel, 1 pump white mocha, 2 scoops vanilla bean powder, extra ice frappuchino with 2 shots poured over the top (apagotto style) with caramel drizzle under and on top of the whipped cream, double cupped.
I’ve worked in customer service since I was a teen- hell I’ve even taught groups of people about it. I know good customer service when I see it and bad customer service one of my greatest pet peeves. If I’m giving you my money the least you can do is smile while you fleece me.
Starbucks does just that.
Putting aside the fact that I feel super f’ing classy with a Starbucks’ cup in my hand as I saunter about the, hip, up and coming neighbourhood of Yonge and Eglinton, Starbucks makes a good cup of Joe. Even if they didn’t, I’d still go and shell out the big bucks.
Because it’s a freaking episode of Cheers every time I walk in!
I kid you not. I gave up Starbucks last December to help save up for some actual Christmas presents- apparently Love was not in style last year. Worst. Month. Ever.
January 1st hit and I skipped back into my favorite location. No word of a lie, every barista’s head came up as I entered and my name was heralded! They commented on how they hadn’t seen me, asked me about my holidays and I listened to theirs in turn. You better believe I laid my cash on the counter that day, and at least once a week since.
There is the barista who winks at me mischievously when my girl-friend refuses to let me pay for her, holds back my change, and refuses payment from my girl-friend. It’s the pride I get to feel when I turn in triumph and cry: “You forget. I know these people!”
I also met the love of my life there.
He doesn’t know it, as all good love stories should be unrequited. His smile makes my otherwise cold heart pitter-patter. He will seek me out to say “hi” even if he is not behind the counter; blushes and expertly forgets to charge me for my coffee when I compliment him on his new facial hair, or lack thereof.
He is my Olympic God. My bringer of coffee.
Getting my morning perk is quite possibly the best part of my day, and if a $7.00* cup of coffee makes the rest of my day tolerable; I reckon it worth the cost!
*prices may be slightly exaggerated.