Despite Economy, Starbucks remains as pretentious as ever.

Let me guess, they all call for coffee grounds and hot water, right?

     I was a little disappointed earlier today to find myself in line at a nearby Starbucks (and there's always a nearby Starbucks), scratching the itch for an afternoon coffee. I suppose it was a line anyway. There were a half dozen people sort of floating within a yard of the main counter, so I side-stepped the sprawled backpacks of college kids piggybacking the free WiFi, took my place to the far left and waited. And waited. And waited.
 
     I decided to interrupt the gabbing of the two early middle-aged women to my immediate right to see if they'd been helped. Mind you it was my day off, and looking to take advantage of one of the last nice days of 2010 I was clad in a Rider University Baseball tee, plaid shorts and a pair of O'Neill flips. Maybe that's why my query was met with blank expressions that toed the line between 'how dare you' and 'fuck off'. Moments later one of the Baristas (can we stop that one in its tracks? Why are there random Italian words at an American coffee house anyway?) finally nodded me over. Hosannah in the highest! My turn had come at last! I shuffled forward, nodded at Kevin (so his name tag said) and started what would turn out to be a rather painful exchange.

   "What can I get for you?" Simple and straight forward. Surely this would be easy.

   "Small decaf" says I, figuring that wasn't a strange thing to hear at a coffee house. Not for a barista of Kevin's caliber.

   "Decaf what? Coffee?"

   "Yes." No Kevin, a goddamn omelette.


   "Can I have the cup first?" I knew this would be a bit of a curve ball, but felt Kevin would be able to roll with the punch. I was wrong.

   "Why?" Now we're getting a little personal for my taste.

   "I like to put the cream in first."

   "Really?" He handed the cup over with a reluctant look. Yes, Kevin, really. It tastes better and gives the beverage a nice texture. Even your bitter, overblown product. 

   Cup in hand, I weaved the pattern of Libertines standing or sitting in such a way as to show a complete disregard for common courtesy and made it to the little amenities station in the corner. That's where I came upon sensory overload in terms of pretentiousness. And why I think I may finally be done with the whole Starbucks experience.

    Let's start with the sweeteners. First, the last seven Equal packets in Central New Jersey. No problem there, even though it tastes like my ass. Splenda. Why not? It's in everything at this point anyway. Sugar? Where's the sugar? Not at Starbucks, that would be far too down-at-heel for such an establishment. No, its been replaced by a product called 'Sugar In the Raw'.

    Basically a byproduct of sugar cane and humidity, it is housed in a brown bag that looks recycled and may well be. My issue is that this is a completely unnecessary product geared toward the crunchier members of society that has somehow gone mainstream. There is nothing wrong with bleached white sugar. Nothing! The bleaching process actually removes impurities that are not good for the body, and the fact sugar packets are bleached white paper gives me a good feeling, too. Certain things are meant to be sterile, not 40% recycled rice paper crawling with micro organisms. Especially things ear-marked for ingestion by human beings. Sugar In The Raw calls itself  "naturally blond". Haha! I get it! That's a good 'un. Now where's the regular damned sugar flavored sugar, Kevin? 

    
    Fine, no real sugar. I'll make due with the crystalline Sugar In The Raw for now. At least we haven't yet reached the point where there's three sugar cane stalks and a community machete on the table. That would be the epitome of Sugar In The Raw. But one question I won't let go of so easily...why is there a spice rack?

   Nutmeg and Cinnamon, two of each. That's right, there are two jars of nutmeg, but no actual sugar. I'm not baking a cake. I'm not making goddamn egg nog, either. Just trying to assemble a passable cup of joe and go about my day.

   Grabbing a dozen or so flimsy recycled napkins,(less than ten would be useless and barely get up most of a drop of water) I returned to the main counter and handed Kevin the cup and two dollars. My eyes took in the onslaught of non-coffee products, including the thirty different kinds of carrot cake, inexplicably over-priced cookies and easy-listening CD single of the month. I don't know if it was all that or the quick sip of bitter swill that everyone raves about, but I kind of threw up in my mouth a little bit at that point.


   Unable to speak for fear of spewing possibly the most overrated beverage in history back in the direction it came from, I motioned for Kevin to keep the change and attempted to exit. Not that the douche in the button-down blocking the door and yammering on his bluetooth made that easy. Not when my "excuse me" is met with a huffy sigh.

   Oh, did I interrupt your call? Was it important business? Must be a pressing issue if you're stopping off for a twenty minute stay in the coffee line, huh? It must be if you think enough of yourself to block the damned exit. Thank you for doing your part in cementing my growing inclination that once I get past you, it will be the last time I pass through a Starbucks doorway in this lifetime. 

   Now enjoy your pumpkin spice lattes, raspberry-walnut scones and smarmy conservative-bashing jabs. Just don't expect anyone else with a shred of perspective to play along for much longer.