I've been in an on-again-off-again relationship for going on five years now. It's unhealthy and co-dependent, but I can't seem to break away. Rationally I know that my love for them is superficial and wasted, but I feel at my best when I'm with them; they make me stronger, they complete me. I say that it's over time and again, I move on to someone new, but I always seem to find my way back . . . to Starbucks.

Oh, Starbucks. You are a symbol of so much that I despise about urban America. I want to hate you the way I want to hate Wal-Mart for homogenizing American consumerism. When I'm with you, I sit back in your cozy velvet armchairs and cynically chuckle at the soccer moms, sorority sisters, suits, and yuppies who balance their Coach clutch and pink Razr phones in one hand so their other hand is free to accept their venti low-fat soy sugar-free caramel frappuccino (with a mountain of whipped cream and syrup on top) from the perky barista on the other side of the counter.
But unlike Wal-Mart, you, Starbucks, have some damned tasty coffee. Sure, other cafes have good coffee, too, but yours is consistently quite nice at every location I visit. And you offer a nice variety of drinks and snacks. Your new breakfast sandwiches look quite yummy, and I've heard good things about your new salads, too. Some may complain about your extravagant prices but, honestly, comparable coffee drinks at cafes with comparable ambiance and selection come with comparable price tags and less consistency.
I lost my coffee virginity to you, Starbucks, and while I thought that meant something, you quickly showed me otherwise. Within two weeks of our first time, you took my drink (Cinnamon Spice Mocha) off the menu. I was hurt, so I sampled around at other coffee shops, but I eventually came back. I learned later that I could still get "our" drink, even though it wasn't explicitly named on your menu; experienced baristas still knew what a Cinnamon Spice Mocha contains: simple flavorings carried regularly by Starbucks.
A few summers ago you created a special treat for me: the Mocha Malt Frappuccino. We shared many hot days that summer, Starbucks, but at the end of the season you took the Mocha Malt off your menu. Undeterred, I ordered one up anyway, but was rejected by the barista who informed me that the Mocha Malt was only a seasonal special and to look for it again next summer.
I've yet to see the Mocha Malt on a menu again, but a couple of months ago I noticed that malt was a special "extra" being suggested to add to your favorite drink at my local Starbucks. I seized the suggestion and was thrilled when the barista attending my order admitted to also being a huge fan of the Mocha Malt! This discovery brightened my entire spring quater, and I looked forward to another summer of Mocha Malt bliss.
Until today. Returning to my local Starbucks after a couple of weeks of travel, I sought to catch up on some reading out on the sunny patio with my friend the Mocha Malt Frappuccino. Alas, the barista informed me that Starbucks has quit stocking malt. Can you hear my balloon being burst?
I understand that Starbucks is trying to attract new patrons--both coffee-drinkers and non-coffee drinkers alike--with interesting new drink combinations. I'm in love with the blackberry green tea combos (which I never would have thought to combine!), and these new juice blend frappuccinos sound really awesome; I'll have to try one soon.
So I get that you have limited space on your menu and may not be able to list all your "old" drink combos. But seriously, how much room does a container of malt take up? Is it totally going to break your bank to at least stock the ingredient? I know that you won't sell a million Mocha Malts a day (especially since you haven't advertised that particular drink combo in at least two years), but don't you feel any since of obligation to your loyal patrons?
A year or so ago you mailed me (a Starbucks Duetto cardholder since its inception in 2003) a pamphlet all about ways to create my custom Starbucks drink. You told me about all the options and extras I could experiment with to create my own, personalized coffee drink. You even encouraged me to stray from the menu selection and opt for a drink as unique and individual as myself. I did, and I fell in love with my unique coffee creation. Please bring back the malt so I don't have to search for love elsewhere!

Oh, Starbucks. You are a symbol of so much that I despise about urban America. I want to hate you the way I want to hate Wal-Mart for homogenizing American consumerism. When I'm with you, I sit back in your cozy velvet armchairs and cynically chuckle at the soccer moms, sorority sisters, suits, and yuppies who balance their Coach clutch and pink Razr phones in one hand so their other hand is free to accept their venti low-fat soy sugar-free caramel frappuccino (with a mountain of whipped cream and syrup on top) from the perky barista on the other side of the counter.
But unlike Wal-Mart, you, Starbucks, have some damned tasty coffee. Sure, other cafes have good coffee, too, but yours is consistently quite nice at every location I visit. And you offer a nice variety of drinks and snacks. Your new breakfast sandwiches look quite yummy, and I've heard good things about your new salads, too. Some may complain about your extravagant prices but, honestly, comparable coffee drinks at cafes with comparable ambiance and selection come with comparable price tags and less consistency.
I lost my coffee virginity to you, Starbucks, and while I thought that meant something, you quickly showed me otherwise. Within two weeks of our first time, you took my drink (Cinnamon Spice Mocha) off the menu. I was hurt, so I sampled around at other coffee shops, but I eventually came back. I learned later that I could still get "our" drink, even though it wasn't explicitly named on your menu; experienced baristas still knew what a Cinnamon Spice Mocha contains: simple flavorings carried regularly by Starbucks.
A few summers ago you created a special treat for me: the Mocha Malt Frappuccino. We shared many hot days that summer, Starbucks, but at the end of the season you took the Mocha Malt off your menu. Undeterred, I ordered one up anyway, but was rejected by the barista who informed me that the Mocha Malt was only a seasonal special and to look for it again next summer.
I've yet to see the Mocha Malt on a menu again, but a couple of months ago I noticed that malt was a special "extra" being suggested to add to your favorite drink at my local Starbucks. I seized the suggestion and was thrilled when the barista attending my order admitted to also being a huge fan of the Mocha Malt! This discovery brightened my entire spring quater, and I looked forward to another summer of Mocha Malt bliss.
Until today. Returning to my local Starbucks after a couple of weeks of travel, I sought to catch up on some reading out on the sunny patio with my friend the Mocha Malt Frappuccino. Alas, the barista informed me that Starbucks has quit stocking malt. Can you hear my balloon being burst?
I understand that Starbucks is trying to attract new patrons--both coffee-drinkers and non-coffee drinkers alike--with interesting new drink combinations. I'm in love with the blackberry green tea combos (which I never would have thought to combine!), and these new juice blend frappuccinos sound really awesome; I'll have to try one soon.
So I get that you have limited space on your menu and may not be able to list all your "old" drink combos. But seriously, how much room does a container of malt take up? Is it totally going to break your bank to at least stock the ingredient? I know that you won't sell a million Mocha Malts a day (especially since you haven't advertised that particular drink combo in at least two years), but don't you feel any since of obligation to your loyal patrons?
A year or so ago you mailed me (a Starbucks Duetto cardholder since its inception in 2003) a pamphlet all about ways to create my custom Starbucks drink. You told me about all the options and extras I could experiment with to create my own, personalized coffee drink. You even encouraged me to stray from the menu selection and opt for a drink as unique and individual as myself. I did, and I fell in love with my unique coffee creation. Please bring back the malt so I don't have to search for love elsewhere!
Current Mood:
crushed
crushedCurrent Music: Breathe (Anna Nalick)
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