Starbucks Bitch
I stopped at Starbucks at 11 a.m. the other day for a coffe. We had run out at home, so I hadn’t had my cuppa. I was sad, needing a boost, and felt entitled. I ordered my grande pumpkin spice latte with whipped cream and paid the $3.50 for it. (I treat myself to a coffee drink about twice a month.) The chick behind the counter took my money, looked at my belly disdainfully, and pointedly asked, “Are you sure you don’t want a decaf?”
“No, I don’t want a decaf, coffee bitch!”
I'm a busy freelance editor and writer, wife to Ian, and mother to two precious boys. I am living each day to the fullest and with as much grace, creativity, and patience as I can muster.
"Love doesn't just sit there like a stone; it has to be made, like bread, remade all the time, made new." —Ursula K. LeGuinn
September 17, 2006 at 8:52 pm
Next time tell her you’re not “shooting up” now that you’re in your second trimester.
Why do coffee bitches gotta be so bitchy?
September 17, 2006 at 11:56 pm
I’m in awe. You didn’t rip her a new asshole? I would. It would have made me smile all day. In fact, if you let me know who it was, and which Starbuck’s, I’ll do it when I come down for T&E’s wedding.
September 18, 2006 at 11:55 am
Thanks. You know, it’s the little things in life that have the tremendous power to tip you from reasonably happy, pregnant chic to hormone-crazed, blood-thirsty she-wolf. Depriving me of my coffee is one of them.