the love-hate relationship with starbucks

PRO

by Lindsey

via

Coffee: (noun.) Nectar of the gods. (The ambrosia bit is a myth.)

And where better to get your daily, twice daily, or even thrice daily caffeine fix than Starbucks. Also known as Starbs or the Bucks, this coffee chain is clearly bringing in the cash with the amount of business they do.

I started my Starbucks fixation in high school; took it the next level in college (thanks to an unlimited meal plan where you could use swipes at the Starbucks in the library ... brilliant marketing ploy, Wake Forest, absolutely brilliant); took it back down a notch until I worked in Farmington, Connecticut--where the only thing to do besides get froyo was walk to the Bucks); and now, living on a penny-pincher's budget in the District, I try to keep my caffeine purchases to a minimum.

But I love it. The Bucks has anything and everything a coffee lover could possibly want. Watching your weight? Go for the "skinny" option. Craving fruit but choose a burrito instead of a fruit salad? Ask for a few pumps of raspberry. Falling asleep and the work day hasn't begun yet? Extra shots are necessary. It's ninety degrees outside, there's a heat wave on the approach, AND you've soaked through your blouse? Frap or something iced; that will act as a band-aid for the shitty situation you've encountered living in Swamplandia.

And you get rewards! They're better than punch cards. Eventually you can even be a gold member (no, not like the Mike Myers movie), earning freebies like syrups and size upgrades. Once I reach gold status, I'm sure to feel very upper echelon, like Gossip Girl-style. Picture it: walking around with oversized sunglasses, a designer bag, and grande latte. Alright, so I'm clearly not even close to as fabulous as Blair or Serena, but a girl can dream, can't she?

CON

by Lindsey

via

Yes, waiting in line is what I'd really like to be doing--it's not like I have better things to do--and waiting even longer because the person in front of me wants a double tall (whatever the f*** that means), half-caf, single-shot, no foam, extra hot, skinny vanilla latte with a pump of sugar-free hazelnut. I mean COME ON. Clearly, you're ordering coffee just to make everyone's lives a living hell. GEE THANKS.

Yes, I positively adore paying nearly $5 for an iced coffee that's actually just half-ice. I choose light ice. The barista chooses to have selective hearing.

Yes, I love dealing with baristas who loathe their coffee-brewing lives. And they spell my name in the stripper variety, i.e. Lyndzi. No one spells it like that. NO ONE. Except that one girl from Jake's season of The Bachelor who had a noticeably asymmetrical face. Clearly she had sketchy parents.

Yes, I love bypassing the Union Station Starbs in favor of saving some cash and drinking the mediocre (and sometimes burned) office coffee ... and seeing the girl from the other side of the office bouncing in with her iPhone in one hand and venti, something-pretentious Starbucks beverage in the other. Oh, that's nice. I forgot that you live in the swanky area of D.C., probably don't pay your own rent (#daddy'sgirl), and can purchase designer coffee on the reg. Yes, I hate the very essence of your being.