Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Fuck you S**rbucks, you really don't know me!


In what has to be the worst ever corporate mandate, or simply an astonishingly ham-fisted attempt at analogue data gathering about customers, Starbucks staff now ask you for your name when you buy a coffee.  Presumably this is because ‘Jeff’ is easier to remember than ‘double no-fun skinny latte and give it wings’.
The only plausible reason for a coffee shop drone to ask you your name is if you are the fiftieth person in line to sequentially ask for a latte and they need to differentiate you from all the other folk who can’t think of a more interesting beverage.
I do not like being asked my name in Starbucks, as a corporation famous for ending individuality on the high street by trying to drive independent coffee shops out of business with their mugs, and their staff, and their shots of syrup instead of the traditional stale cup of filter whatever-is-on-special-at Costco blend available in traditional coffee shops, it’s a bit bloody rich that they are trying to introduce individuality by writing the name you choose to give on a mug.  Also, I expect them to then ask for your rank and serial number.
Really, if I wanted personal service, I would have spent my money in the little independent coffee shop next door that Starbucks put out of business years ago.  Of course, if I had done that, it wouldn’t have gone out of business.
Or I would get my morning coffee at the Krispy Kreme Koncession, where they greet me with ‘Good morning sir, latte?’.
Sir!  What’s wrong with Sir?  The Krispy Kreme Krew don’t want to know my name, nor do they care, nor do they pretend that they care.  They just want to know that I am latte guy and that, even if I actually wanted a flat white that morning, I will now have a latte instead.  I can respect that.
Obviously the drill in Starbucks is now to at least give a made up name, or answer ‘Sir’ or ‘Valued Customer’ or ‘Master’.  Or ‘Doctor Claw’ or any of a number of cool names, if you can summon the courage to do that to some poor Starbuckian who has been on shift for eight hours slinging coffee to an ungrateful public, a suspiciously large number of whom seem to be called ‘Gengis Kahn’ or, if you are a Star Trek fan, ‘Kahhhhhhhnnnnnnnnn’.
As it was, I panicked and gave my real name.  And I’ve seen ‘The Great Escape’ loads of times, I should have known what I was doing.
As it was, she not only wrote my name down wrong but she also made the wrong coffee.
Thinking back on it now, it’s just possible I may have picked up the wrong cup.

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