“Tall no foam decaf soy latte with room for cream and sugar. Lots of it.”
I stand in line behind this idiot at Starbucks, making strange faces that might come off looking like sexual arousal for some odd reason, but that are really faces of disgust. I mean, seriously? If you’re going to buy a $5.00 cup of coffee, why not make it the best cup of coffee you can possibly have? I could make a solid cup of coffee at home in my Keurig for a fraction of the cost, so I’m sure this loser could too. But, wait. They don’t make soy latte k-cups. And for good reason too!
I grew up in the world of soy, so I know what I’m talking about. For imitation burgers, hot dogs, fried chicken, and bacon, soy is a relatively good substitute (of course then again, how would I know as I’ve never had the real thing), and even for some types of ice cream (soy cream — yeah!), but for coffee? That’s one of those things like a wiener dog/ German shepherd mix that no one should ever let happen. Ever.
And this guy in front of me is one of those health freaks. You know the type, who always wear jogging gear or spandex, even if they’re not quite in shape enough yet to fit into the spandex comfortably. I’m one of the biggest proponents of working out (even though I hardly ever do it), but come on people! If you had to squeeze yourself into the outfit, it’s probably not the right size for you yet. Stick it back in your closet until you’ve reached your ideal weight, then celebrate by sliding it on nice and smoothly.
So, yeah, he has on these black spandex biking shorts that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. And I mean nothing. You’d expect him to be on a bike somewhere losing all hope of having kids with the way his package would have to be squished up (ouch!), but he’s here instead, getting a drink that will definitely not travel well in his bike cupholder. I’m trying not to look, too, because I don’t want the people behind me to judge my looking as me objectifying him. Definitely not.
He taps his fingernails (dude has long fingernails) on the counter as the barista takes time making the latte, and I wonder how well he would do in a group setting, where he would have to wait for someone else to finish before he could take his turn. He was probably a real whiny bitch in kindergarten. I shake my head as he finally gets his drink and heads to the opposite counter where he pours half the sugar container into his soy latte. What a waste! Then it’s my turn and I step up to order.
“Whatever the biggest size is you got, give me that one. I like that pot over there. I’ll take it. And I want the strongest coffee you have. Think black. Fill it to the brim. Oh, and do you take gift cards? And if you make the soy stuff in the same pot, I’ll take a different one. That stuff sucks.”
I say it loud enough for bicycle dude to hear me, and I swear I can almost hear small golf claps from the people in line behind me, but when I turn, they’re still looking as bored as I did before I walked in here.