Today is a bit of a notes article; no real overarching thing just a bunch of short thoughts on what has been a pleasantly relaxing day. I'm sure I'll find something to rage about though.
I hit a bit of a milestone today. I know my readership is worldwide, but I'm assuming you all know about Metro cards and the price of a subway ride. For those of you who don't a ride on the subway costs $2.25 (little known fact, apparently that is also the price for an apartment in the subway station, they're roomy enough but quite drafty) and when you buy a $20 Metro card you get a 15% bonus of $2.50 adding up to a total of $22.50. I'm sure all of you're actuaries, but that works out to 10 rides or 2 rides every business day leaving you with a .25 cent surplus at the end of the workweek. This means that instead of buying a new card every week I'm forced to refill my old one in order not to give up that .25 cents. The following week that surplus grows to .50 cents and .75 the week after and so on and so on. Long story short after 11 weeks of refilling my metro card I finally have enough to use it once more and let it hit $0.00.
I lost it :-(.
Yankee Parade in Downtown Manhattan today - say what you will but I find it heartwarming to see how the police will excuse public drunkenness and illegal exposure if you're smart enough to be a Yankee fan.
"Do you like milk?" - I was going through the tags on the blog the other day and I discovered that Starbucks has merited more rants than anything else. I was a bit surprised, personally I'd have put my money on the Portuguese (what's with that extra 'u'!?). Still, facts are facts, so I apologize for returning to the scene of the crime yet again. I was in Starbucks with a co-worker and I noticed they had a drink called an Eggnog latte. being curious by nature I asked if it was any good. The barista's response, however, assured me that while Starbuck's will continue to thrive, she will probably not be attending Wharton's School of Business anytime soon. I think it's safe to say when you're asking someone to pay $4 for a non-alcoholic beverage, you need a hook, an exotic quality that makes it seem like something you can't get anywhere else (kind of how massage parlors have "exotic" Asian women even though there are far more Asians than Caucasians in the world). So, when I ask the barista if the eggnog latte is good, I don't think "yeah, I mean do you like sweet milk?" is the response corporate had in mind. The fact that my co-worker ordered it anyway, well... I didn't say either of us was going to Wharton's either.
Showing posts with label Starbucks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Starbucks. Show all posts
Nov 6, 2009
Oct 22, 2009
YOU CAN MILK ANYTHING WITH NIPPLES
A brief complaint: I went to Starbucks yesterday for the first time in like a year. I don't drink coffee and I don't need a fancy paper cup to help me feel like I'm better than the rest of you, so there's never been much of a draw for me in the first place. Still, it was warm yesterday (you're welcome!) and I felt like something cold. It wasn't anywhere near lunch or breakfast so there was no line and, before I knew it, I was inside and ordering. Now I know these Starbucks jokes are about 10 years old, but DUDE they charged me $4 for sugared milk. It wasn't even a large! I've been given bigger cups to pee into... some of them by doctors. The thing is I didn't even realize what had happened till I was back in my building on the way up the elevator shaft. It's just that that (I hate when I end up having 'that that' happen to a sentence, or 'had had', it makes me feel like I have a finger stutter) freaking wall menu they have is so confusing and written in such tiny print that my pulse is racing by the time it's my turn to order and I'm so relieved just to have gotten my order out without embarrassing myself that I'm on an adrenaline high for the next 3-5 minutes. All of which means I don't realize I've exchanged my $4 for a urine sample cup filled with cold milk until its too late to demand a refund. Still, I guess it'd be OK if it had ended there, money spent lesson learned - my own personal teachable moment and I didn't even have to arrest a guy for breaking into his own home - but, it seems the worst has happened. I've awoken something inside me. Maybe it's the craving for that adrenaline rush, but I find myself thinking about Iced Chai Latte with Soy juice (no nipples on a soybean) and I can't make myself stop...
Mar 11, 2008
EXCHANGE RATES
Sorry about skipping Monday's 'Top Five Things That Bother Me' but, given recent events, I couldn’t quite work up the necessary agitation to whine about minor inconveniences peeves. I know, I’m as surprised by this as you are, but I can’t control the muse, only direct it. That being said let me share with you a story that defines America like no other.
So I went to Starbucks yesterday. No, that isn’t the end of the story, though I suppose that would do a pretty good job of defining America all on its own. There’s more, however. So I’m in Starbucks, and while I’m waiting for them to make me my Grande caramel apple spice (that’s a medium cup of warm apple juice, in English) I picked up a CD they had on sale, let me rephrase, a CD they had, FOR sale, nothing in Starbucks is ever actually, ON sale. Anyway, it was a Buddy Holly collection (because Starbucks is oh, so cool and retro), a rather good one at that, even if it was lacking Brown-Eyed Girl. The thing was, when I flipped the CD over to look at the price (because when you’re in Starbucks spending $3.50 for cup of apple juice, buying CD’s doesn’t seem all that dumb anymore), it still listed the price in Canada and the U.S. Now, I don’t know how familiar all of you are with international currency, but I think it’s safe to assume you’re all aware of the fact that earlier this year the Canadian dollar actually edged ahead of the greenback in terms of buying power. It’s a day that will live in infamy for me, a day when I could no longer make jokes about Canadian quarters (they should be called eighths), a day on which I could no longer point to the loon and the toon as having more comedic value (looney toons) that monetary. In short, it was sort of like finding out that a 1984 Luis Sojo error card is worth more than a 1923 Babe Ruth rookie card. It just doesn’t make sense, no matter how true it may be.
Anyway, the point of the story is, when I looked at the price on the back and saw the Canadian price, it was a full TWO DOLLARS MORE. That’s right people. Here in the United Sates of Hell Yeah America, we don’t care about exchange rates. We don’t give a damn about relative value or, you know, accuracy. In my United States, Canada’s money is worth less and regardless of the economic climate, the apparent recession, rising inflation and whatever other so called ‘negative economic indicators’ may point to the dollar’s weakness, it always will be.
So come on down Canadian tourists. Bring your loons and toons, your French accents and your God save the Queens you European wannabes. Just remember, here, in the United States of Hell Yeah America, we’ll always be better than you.
Just for fun I’ve decided to append a hypothetical conversation between a Canadian Tourist and an American store owner.
Canadian Tourist: Hi I’d like to buy this.
American Store Owner: That will be five dollars
CT: Here you go sir
ASO: What the f#ck is this piece of sh$t crap?
CT: Pardon me?
ASO: You heard me motherf#cker what kinda crap are you trying to pull?
CT: What? But it’s Canadian money, it’s a $10 bill!
ASO: Candian huh?
CT: Yes, that’s right
ASO: OK, well that’ll be ten dollars then.
CT: What? You said it was five?
ASO: It’s five dollars for REAL money, for this Canadian sh&t it’s ten
CT: But... our dollars worth more?
ASO: What the f@ck did you just say?
CT: ...Our... our dollar’s worth more?
ASO: Say that again! Go ahead, say it! I’m beggin’ ya, PLEASE, say it, just say it once more so I can beat the snot outta your pansy @ss. You hockey loving, anti-American, commie bastard. SAY IT!
CT: So... ten dollars?
ASO: F@ckin’ right!
America... Hell Yeah!
So I went to Starbucks yesterday. No, that isn’t the end of the story, though I suppose that would do a pretty good job of defining America all on its own. There’s more, however. So I’m in Starbucks, and while I’m waiting for them to make me my Grande caramel apple spice (that’s a medium cup of warm apple juice, in English) I picked up a CD they had on sale, let me rephrase, a CD they had, FOR sale, nothing in Starbucks is ever actually, ON sale. Anyway, it was a Buddy Holly collection (because Starbucks is oh, so cool and retro), a rather good one at that, even if it was lacking Brown-Eyed Girl. The thing was, when I flipped the CD over to look at the price (because when you’re in Starbucks spending $3.50 for cup of apple juice, buying CD’s doesn’t seem all that dumb anymore), it still listed the price in Canada and the U.S. Now, I don’t know how familiar all of you are with international currency, but I think it’s safe to assume you’re all aware of the fact that earlier this year the Canadian dollar actually edged ahead of the greenback in terms of buying power. It’s a day that will live in infamy for me, a day when I could no longer make jokes about Canadian quarters (they should be called eighths), a day on which I could no longer point to the loon and the toon as having more comedic value (looney toons) that monetary. In short, it was sort of like finding out that a 1984 Luis Sojo error card is worth more than a 1923 Babe Ruth rookie card. It just doesn’t make sense, no matter how true it may be.
Anyway, the point of the story is, when I looked at the price on the back and saw the Canadian price, it was a full TWO DOLLARS MORE. That’s right people. Here in the United Sates of Hell Yeah America, we don’t care about exchange rates. We don’t give a damn about relative value or, you know, accuracy. In my United States, Canada’s money is worth less and regardless of the economic climate, the apparent recession, rising inflation and whatever other so called ‘negative economic indicators’ may point to the dollar’s weakness, it always will be.
So come on down Canadian tourists. Bring your loons and toons, your French accents and your God save the Queens you European wannabes. Just remember, here, in the United States of Hell Yeah America, we’ll always be better than you.
Just for fun I’ve decided to append a hypothetical conversation between a Canadian Tourist and an American store owner.
Canadian Tourist: Hi I’d like to buy this.
American Store Owner: That will be five dollars
CT: Here you go sir
ASO: What the f#ck is this piece of sh$t crap?
CT: Pardon me?
ASO: You heard me motherf#cker what kinda crap are you trying to pull?
CT: What? But it’s Canadian money, it’s a $10 bill!
ASO: Candian huh?
CT: Yes, that’s right
ASO: OK, well that’ll be ten dollars then.
CT: What? You said it was five?
ASO: It’s five dollars for REAL money, for this Canadian sh&t it’s ten
CT: But... our dollars worth more?
ASO: What the f@ck did you just say?
CT: ...Our... our dollar’s worth more?
ASO: Say that again! Go ahead, say it! I’m beggin’ ya, PLEASE, say it, just say it once more so I can beat the snot outta your pansy @ss. You hockey loving, anti-American, commie bastard. SAY IT!
CT: So... ten dollars?
ASO: F@ckin’ right!
America... Hell Yeah!
Feb 27, 2008
THE BALM IN GILEAD
It is a sad day friends, a sad day for us all. What was once a pleasant, mutually beneficial arrangement has become a yolk around my neck. It has come to my attention that certain people who, for some reason or another, feel entitled to my time, may have begun to suspect that I how can I put this diplomatically, don't do very much all day. We shall, for the sake of brevity, refer to these people as 'my bosses'. Accordingly, today's post is actually being written in what has, heretofore, been a part of my day unsullied by something as menial as blogging, my free time.
As many of you know yesterday, two days ago if we use your point of view, Starbucks, home of the $3.25 cup of warm apple juice with a squirt of caramel, closed its doors for three hours to retrain its Baristas (a.k.a. people who smile way more than anyone wearing a baseball cap to work ever should). This was apparently problematic to some for, as Alba Morales, a community college student remark "A lot of of people come here to make out, read sleep. I can't imagine how lost people will be." So you can imagine my surprise when I went to work today (yesterday) and didn't find horny, book carrying, narcoleptic college students walking around with those big tourists map Japanese people use to stop sidewalk traffic. They weren't roaming from coffee shop to cafe hoping to find an African blend with just the right amount of mumbo jumbo about hints, notes and aromas (try our mid-African blend with a hint of tobacco, as well as notes of cinnamon and chicory. The aroma alone will leave you craving a second cup.). NO, they just hung around not reading, sleeping, or making out, and waited for Starbucks to reopen.
All of this is a long way of saying are we dumb? We're willing to pay 3 bucks for coffee and glorified hot cocoa because there are couches on which we can read make out and sleep, simultaneously even, if you drop a mickey into someone's machiatto. Are we really convinced that no one else in all of NY city knows how to make an espresso? And if not, why the hell do we wait? I guess the answer is (I'm guessing cuz I've only given this about 4 minutes of thought), we are creatures of comfort. We are willing to pay more for leisure than we are value.
Look at the evidence. We pick out coffins with cushioned interiors lined in velvet and satin because the thought of being trapped in the same uncomfortable bed forever is so incredibly contrary to our nature that it even blinds us to the fact that when the time to use it rolls around we're, you know, dead. We have dress pants that stretch as you stuff your face (the comfort fit waist band adjusts with your body). We pay hundreds of dollars more for a flight so that we can recline our seat and put our arms on both arm rests simultaneously (By the way don't you hate it when your at the movies and the people on each side of you each steal on of your arm rests? Then you have to spend the whole movie with your shoulders all hunched forward, hoping and waiting for the moment when they move their arm and you can strike, cobra-like, with a forearm to the cushion and claim that 3 inches of upholstered foam your own. There should be some sort of binding arbitration you can enter into to avoid the problems caused by the one guy hogging two arm rests. Also, this is why you should never got to the movies alone, at least if you have a friend you know that if all else fails, you can always steal their arm rest.) We even have comfort food. Though now that I think about Ms. Morales' comment I'm forced to wonder if the draw of comfort food is the promise that somewhere out there someone else is craving chili, and, if the seats are comfortable enough, she will make out with you.
As many of you know yesterday, two days ago if we use your point of view, Starbucks, home of the $3.25 cup of warm apple juice with a squirt of caramel, closed its doors for three hours to retrain its Baristas (a.k.a. people who smile way more than anyone wearing a baseball cap to work ever should). This was apparently problematic to some for, as Alba Morales, a community college student remark "A lot of of people come here to make out, read sleep. I can't imagine how lost people will be." So you can imagine my surprise when I went to work today (yesterday) and didn't find horny, book carrying, narcoleptic college students walking around with those big tourists map Japanese people use to stop sidewalk traffic. They weren't roaming from coffee shop to cafe hoping to find an African blend with just the right amount of mumbo jumbo about hints, notes and aromas (try our mid-African blend with a hint of tobacco, as well as notes of cinnamon and chicory. The aroma alone will leave you craving a second cup.). NO, they just hung around not reading, sleeping, or making out, and waited for Starbucks to reopen.
All of this is a long way of saying are we dumb? We're willing to pay 3 bucks for coffee and glorified hot cocoa because there are couches on which we can read make out and sleep, simultaneously even, if you drop a mickey into someone's machiatto. Are we really convinced that no one else in all of NY city knows how to make an espresso? And if not, why the hell do we wait? I guess the answer is (I'm guessing cuz I've only given this about 4 minutes of thought), we are creatures of comfort. We are willing to pay more for leisure than we are value.
Look at the evidence. We pick out coffins with cushioned interiors lined in velvet and satin because the thought of being trapped in the same uncomfortable bed forever is so incredibly contrary to our nature that it even blinds us to the fact that when the time to use it rolls around we're, you know, dead. We have dress pants that stretch as you stuff your face (the comfort fit waist band adjusts with your body). We pay hundreds of dollars more for a flight so that we can recline our seat and put our arms on both arm rests simultaneously (By the way don't you hate it when your at the movies and the people on each side of you each steal on of your arm rests? Then you have to spend the whole movie with your shoulders all hunched forward, hoping and waiting for the moment when they move their arm and you can strike, cobra-like, with a forearm to the cushion and claim that 3 inches of upholstered foam your own. There should be some sort of binding arbitration you can enter into to avoid the problems caused by the one guy hogging two arm rests. Also, this is why you should never got to the movies alone, at least if you have a friend you know that if all else fails, you can always steal their arm rest.) We even have comfort food. Though now that I think about Ms. Morales' comment I'm forced to wonder if the draw of comfort food is the promise that somewhere out there someone else is craving chili, and, if the seats are comfortable enough, she will make out with you.
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