Friday, May 26, 2006
When Coffee Gets Confusing
I walked into my local Starbucks with my Macbook tucked away in a bag under my arm. I had never been to a Starbucks before, but I had heard of their caramel macchiatos, and that sounded like something I'd like. I went up to the counter and ordered a medium caramel macchiato. The woman behind the counter said, "Our beverages come in three sizes: tall, grande, and venti," like she said it a thousand times a day.
I said, "I'd like a medium."
She said, "We don't have a medium size, sir. The choices are tall, grande, and venti."
I blinked at her, feeling a little like a racoon caught in the headlights. After a few seconds, I realized that if she wants to play twenty questions, then fine, I'll play.
"What's a 'tall'?" I ask.
"The 'tall' is our small, sir."
"Oh, so you have a small then," I respond.
"No, sir, it's a tall."
"OK, fine," I say. "What's the next size up from tall?"
"That would be the grande, sir."
"Grande means large, doesn't it?" I ask, feeling I'm starting to get somewhere.
"That's correct sir."
"And you don't have a size between tall and grande?," I ask.
"No, sir, we don't."
I could hear people behind me on line starting to grumble. Is it my fault that Starbucks makes things so confusing? No! Let them, grumble, I think to myself. They'll shut their mouths when I whip out my new MacBook.
I eyeballed the menu hanging behind the counter and ask, "What does venti mean?" The grumbling behind me grew louder.
"Venti is Italian for 'twenty,' sir."
"Let me guess, it's twenty ounces," I say.
"Now you're catching on, sir."
But it's larger than the grande?" I ask.
"Yes, sir, that's correct."
"But grande means large!" I say, a little louder than I had intended.
"Yes, sir, but it doesn't mean largest."
"Well neither does venti!" I was really starting to get annoyed now, so annoyed that I decide not to waste my money on anything larger than their smallest size.
"Just give me a small caramel macchiato," I say.
"Would that be a 'tall' caramel macchiato, sir?" I was starting to wonder just how much she enjoys breaking people's balls.
"I don't know, would it?" I ask. "Personally, I think calling it a 'short' would make a little more sense, don't you?" She just stares blankly at me. The grumbling becomes more audible.
"Fine," I say. "I'll have a tall caramel macchiato." I hear a sigh of relief from the crowd behind me.
"Whole milk, skim, or soy, sir?"
"You gotta be kidding me!" I yell.
"Would you like me to get the manager, sir?" she threatens.
"No," I sigh. "That won't be necessary. I'll have a tall caramel macchiato with soy milk and one nutrasweet."
She opens her mouth as if she were about to say something, then closes her mouth again. I realize that I caught her off guard by anticipating that her next question would be about what sweetener to use. I hear some light applause from the crowd behind me. I turn around and take a bow.
It took a while, but I finally figured out how to order a drink from Starbucks. I suddenly feel like one of the initiated. I feel special.
I pay for my caramel macchiato, and ask, "How do I make a wireless connection here?"
"They can help you with that at the information desk, sir."
I take my drink and go to the information desk. Thankfully, this was far less complicated than ordering coffee. In about a minute, I had my login name and password and I head towards an empty table.
This is the moment I had been waiting for, when I take out my MacBook and draw the envious eyes of all the other patrons. I place the MacBook on the table, open it, and boot it up. The MacBook detects the wireless connection with ease, I log in, and I'm online. I nonchalantly take a sip from my caramel macchiato, and look up to see how many people are glaring at me and my MacBook with envy. Much to my surprise, nobody is looking at me. Not only that, but I see several people using MacBooks, MacBook Pros, PowerBooks, and iBooks. I spot a couple of Thinkpads and Vaios as well, but the PC laptops are in the minority. It figures. I guess the kind of place pretentious enough to call their small, medium, and large sizes "tall, grande, and venti" attracts all the Apple-heads.
I felt disappointed, and that special feeling I got when I ordered my drink went up in a puff of smoke. Then I turned to the right, and noticed a man with a white MacBook smiling and looking at my MacBook. He noticed me noticing him noticing my MacBook. "You got the black one, huh?" he smiled.
"Yeah," I smiled back with pride.
"You got ripped off," he said. Then he went back to whatever he was doing on his MacBook.
Grrrrrr. I hate Starbucks.
- Bernie ¶ 4:30 PM
I walked into my local Starbucks with my Macbook tucked away in a bag under my arm. I had never been to a Starbucks before, but I had heard of their caramel macchiatos, and that sounded like something I'd like. I went up to the counter and ordered a medium caramel macchiato. The woman behind the counter said, "Our beverages come in three sizes: tall, grande, and venti," like she said it a thousand times a day.I said, "I'd like a medium."
She said, "We don't have a medium size, sir. The choices are tall, grande, and venti."
I blinked at her, feeling a little like a racoon caught in the headlights. After a few seconds, I realized that if she wants to play twenty questions, then fine, I'll play.
"What's a 'tall'?" I ask.
"The 'tall' is our small, sir."
"Oh, so you have a small then," I respond.
"No, sir, it's a tall."
"OK, fine," I say. "What's the next size up from tall?"
"That would be the grande, sir."
"Grande means large, doesn't it?" I ask, feeling I'm starting to get somewhere.
"That's correct sir."
"And you don't have a size between tall and grande?," I ask.
"No, sir, we don't."
I could hear people behind me on line starting to grumble. Is it my fault that Starbucks makes things so confusing? No! Let them, grumble, I think to myself. They'll shut their mouths when I whip out my new MacBook.
I eyeballed the menu hanging behind the counter and ask, "What does venti mean?" The grumbling behind me grew louder.
"Venti is Italian for 'twenty,' sir."
"Let me guess, it's twenty ounces," I say.
"Now you're catching on, sir."
But it's larger than the grande?" I ask.
"Yes, sir, that's correct."
"But grande means large!" I say, a little louder than I had intended.
"Yes, sir, but it doesn't mean largest."
"Well neither does venti!" I was really starting to get annoyed now, so annoyed that I decide not to waste my money on anything larger than their smallest size.
"Just give me a small caramel macchiato," I say.
"Would that be a 'tall' caramel macchiato, sir?" I was starting to wonder just how much she enjoys breaking people's balls.
"I don't know, would it?" I ask. "Personally, I think calling it a 'short' would make a little more sense, don't you?" She just stares blankly at me. The grumbling becomes more audible.
"Fine," I say. "I'll have a tall caramel macchiato." I hear a sigh of relief from the crowd behind me.
"Whole milk, skim, or soy, sir?"
"You gotta be kidding me!" I yell.
"Would you like me to get the manager, sir?" she threatens.
"No," I sigh. "That won't be necessary. I'll have a tall caramel macchiato with soy milk and one nutrasweet."
She opens her mouth as if she were about to say something, then closes her mouth again. I realize that I caught her off guard by anticipating that her next question would be about what sweetener to use. I hear some light applause from the crowd behind me. I turn around and take a bow.
It took a while, but I finally figured out how to order a drink from Starbucks. I suddenly feel like one of the initiated. I feel special.
I pay for my caramel macchiato, and ask, "How do I make a wireless connection here?"
"They can help you with that at the information desk, sir."
I take my drink and go to the information desk. Thankfully, this was far less complicated than ordering coffee. In about a minute, I had my login name and password and I head towards an empty table.
This is the moment I had been waiting for, when I take out my MacBook and draw the envious eyes of all the other patrons. I place the MacBook on the table, open it, and boot it up. The MacBook detects the wireless connection with ease, I log in, and I'm online. I nonchalantly take a sip from my caramel macchiato, and look up to see how many people are glaring at me and my MacBook with envy. Much to my surprise, nobody is looking at me. Not only that, but I see several people using MacBooks, MacBook Pros, PowerBooks, and iBooks. I spot a couple of Thinkpads and Vaios as well, but the PC laptops are in the minority. It figures. I guess the kind of place pretentious enough to call their small, medium, and large sizes "tall, grande, and venti" attracts all the Apple-heads.
I felt disappointed, and that special feeling I got when I ordered my drink went up in a puff of smoke. Then I turned to the right, and noticed a man with a white MacBook smiling and looking at my MacBook. He noticed me noticing him noticing my MacBook. "You got the black one, huh?" he smiled.
"Yeah," I smiled back with pride.
"You got ripped off," he said. Then he went back to whatever he was doing on his MacBook.
Grrrrrr. I hate Starbucks.
- Bernie ¶ 4:30 PM
