Scott The Robot

Really? EVERY corner? What is this, ABC?

That’s right, people. I say that 50% of the clientele of Starbucks is conspicuous.

“Define:Conspicuous” returned the desired result: 

“obvious to the eye or mind”- In this case, the consumer base at Strabucks i call conspicuous becuase of their showy nature. “Oh, Yeah,” they say, “Lets go to Starbucks and get some Soy Latte Grande Double-Shot Decaf Half-Caf Lattes!”

You may call me a hippocrit because i flaunt my manufactured sandwiches, however at least i have the dignity to admit it. You conspicuous consumers stride into Starbucks with your scarf and beanie and 4 kids in a stroller, shoot your little sharp, piercing glares and stares about the already hostile caffienated environment and declare, “Soy Latte  Grande Double-Shot Decaf Half-Caf Latte!” and then demand that you too have another “Maple Sausage Scone”- As if you really need the carbs you fucking fatty. Those 4 kids don’t work themselves off you know.

OK, so the american dream has now become to drink Starbucks coffee? Since when has it become OK to monopolize an industry, huh Mr. Starbucks, Sir? Geesh, from Baseball, to Cell Phones, to overpriced caffeine beverages. And don’t ever give me a $5 Starbucks gift card ever again. What am I going to buy? A steamed water?

The word steam reminds me of the time that I was studying with some chill peeps inside of the local coffee establishment of conspicuous nomenclature. I want something light, so I reluctantly yet eagerly order a steamed Apple Juice, one of my more simple wintertime favorites. The nice enough Baristas tell me that I am good to go, so I go back to studying. Now remember that there is nobody else but “us” in this Starbucks, so about 5 minutes later a tall drink appears, and the woman calls “African-Aeuracan Swiss Jesus blend for Scott.” I head over, puzzled, I look at the coffee on the counter. The barista has gone. I sit back down, thinking that it must be a mistake. About 10 minutes later, the coffee is still there. I go up to the counter to ask what happened with my Apple juice. She informs me that they were out of Apple juice. SO THEY GAVE ME SOME SHITTY COFFEE! I tell her that I do not want coffee. I want Apple juice. So, she offers me any beverage. I tell her to make me up a White chocolate mocha. My other favorite. She does so, I enjoy it.

But just because she assumes that I buy for the logo, does not mean that it is okay for her to substitute my ordered merchandise with some sleazy second hand shit coffee that somebody else ordered a cup of that left them with the rest of the pot to pawn off on poor elderly and purely logo-seeking consumers.

That shit is bananas.

Scott

can you hear me now? Duh.

The year: 2009, The Place: Everywhere

Look around in a public setting, preferably Starbucks. What do you see? A pair of the signature white ear buds peppered across the room, maybe a Bluetooth headset peeking from under the unreasonably long hair of the environmentalist in the corner, one or two PCs, and a plethora of Macs.

But what you maybe don’t see is what’s in everyone’s pockets. Maybe you do, because you have x-ray vision (you pervert), or maybe you seem to think that you’ve been in those pants, and therefore remember what kind of phone they had. Well, regardless of your ability to score, it seems that everyone in the room in which you may be looking has a cellular device. The 12 year old with the hot chocolate and cookie looks to have a small, cheap, prepaid piece in his pocket, attempting to prove that he is responsible enough for a real cell phone. The sharp looking business man, with his belt, seems to have about four different Smartphones, not to mention the double-action headsets he’s got going on.

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