It happens every time I work - someone comes through the drive-thru and orders 5 or more drinks. I get it, I get it . . . You've got friends. You're cool. You're all out on the town, having a fun time. Or maybe you're with family, on a little adventure to the Starbuckle Wilderness. That's great. We like your business.



BUT.



Don't think, for even a second, that it is acceptable for you to order 5 or more drinks through the drive-thru. When you do this, everyone hates you - and I mean everyone. The workers, the cars behind you . . . even Jesus hates you.







You don't want Jesus to hate you, now do you? All you have to do is come inside. And I don't say that to just anyone. ::wink::

People are robots.

Okay, first off, I'm on my third blog entry and I'm already tired of pretending I don't work for Starbucks. I mean, its not like it's some secret, anyway. So there - it's out. Anyway, my manager said it shouldn't be a problem stating my coffee locale. Hell, someone has to inform the public of how stupid they act in the drive-through.






::Note Exposed, Floppy, Unattractive Breasts::



With that out of the way, I cannot stress to you how overdue a blog entry is. You see, I endured one of the most heinous drive-through dumbasseries of all time at work yesterday. You will not believe this.



I'm going to make a really long story short(ish). Basically, we charged a lady for the wrong drink because her drink didn't get put in the computer. Yeah, it happens. Get over it. However, the Barista DID make her the correct drink. And, well, people never listen when you read them back their order at the window, so when I told the lady, "You ordered a Quad-Venti Mocha." She shook her head in agreement. Why? Because people are robots. I swear. So, I hand the lady the drink she actually ordered, after charging her for the drink of the person in the car behind her, and she drives off happy as a clam.



The next lady pulls up. By this time we've realized the mistake. We feel bad (seriously) - but what can you do? I turn around for about .25 second while the drink is being finished for the lady currently in the car at the window, then. . . IT HAPPENS. I turn back around and. . . wrong-drink-robot-lady is there. She's out of her car, in front of the window. This is tricky, you see, because the lady in the car is still at the window, which means (picture this), crazy-robot-drink-lady has wedged herself between the car and the window. No, I'm not kidding. She's holding her right-drink-wrong-price, flailing her hands as if she's flagging down a Boeing 747.



At this point I thought to myself, "surely this is a joke." Nope. Robot lady looked at her receipt and, before trying the drink, insisted we made her the wrong one. So, pointing out the incredibly awkward, absolutely retarded situation SHE has put herself in, I insisted she either come inside or drive back around through the drive-through. Of course she chooses drive-through. I mean, not like she wasn't out of her car already. . .? (Note that once crazy-window-walker-lady leaves, the lady in the car was in absolute shock that a crazed robot just did a drink-deal with her ass pressed up against her drive-side door.)



So, crazy-drink-robot drives around to the drive-through. Once she gets back to the window, comfortably in her car (thank Jebus), we hand her a new drink along with a Recovery Coupon so that she may get a free drink the next time she goes to Starbucks. Happy ending, right?



WRONG.


Ten minutes pass and . . . SHE'S BACK. In her car. At the window. Flailing. This time I have the shift manager talk to her. Apparently she was made the wrong drink this go around. Yeah, that would be our fault. The last words crazy-robot-drink-lady uttered before she slammed her once-right-drink-wrong-price-now-wrong-drink-right-price on the drive-through counter were, "I GIVE UP."



At least they weren't, "I'll BE BACK."

You Will Get A Brain Tumor. And Die.

That's right, you, the heinously annoying talk-on-the-cell-phone-while-at-the-drive-through-window-person, are going to get a brain tumor and die. Why? Because, for whatever reason, you are unable to detach the cell phone from your ear and have a legitimate conversation with the person at the window. Seriously, all I'm asking for is a casual, yet courteous, "hello - thank you - have a nice day!" I don't expect you to actually go out of your way to pursue 'real' face-to-face human interaction, but the least you could do is PRETEND you're not a robot and - oh, I don't know. . . smile?







Here's the deal. The drive-through was created so that, when people are too busy (or too lazy) to stop and go into the store, they may quickly drive through and get their fix. However, now people are so busy that they can't even take a second to go through the drive-through without being insincere. What are these cell-phone-crazies wanting? Delivery? Well, friends, this is a coffee shop. Not Little Caesars.



Okay, so maybe you were on the phone when you pulled up to the drive-through. I can respect that. You're a cool cat - you've got friends. You drink coffee. Word. Well, when you get up to the window, put the phone down. Tell whoever it is you're talking to that they can hold on a second, and actually talk to the person at the window. After all, I PROMISE you, the quality of your sincerity OFTEN dictates the quality of the product you will receive. If you're an ass, your coffee is going to taste like ass; If you're nice, your coffee is going to taste nice.






It's really not that difficult of a concept, people. Basically, don't pretend that your life is so busy that you MUST talk on the phone RIGHT THIS SECOND. Because, if it were, you wouldn't even have time to stop at a drive-through.

Window To Your Soul

I work in a coffee shop. In fear of getting fired, I don't feel comfortable disclosing which coffee shop. However, let's just say that it's a corporate powerhouse, it's not Caribou, and it rhymes with Nunchucks.


HINT:



Millions of people enjoy Nunchucks Coffee everyday. Many of them stop by on their way to work or school or a drug deal, taking advantage of speedy, usually friendly, drive-through service. But, hold the foam. I mean, phone. I'm going to make a bold (ha!) statement. But, it's one that needs to be stated: the drive-through is ruining America. That's right. The drive-through, the staple of American efficiency (and obesity), is the downfall of good food, good people, and good times. Furthermore, it completely uproots and destroys the innate sentimentality that is a coffee shop.


However, I can say all I want about how the drive-through is nothing but an enabler of the lazy-minded, but I'd just be wasting breath. One thing is for certain, drive-throughs are here to stay. Oh, and I'd be a hypocrite. (Lord knows I've done my fair share of drive-throughing.)





So, instead of condemning drive-throughs, this blog is dedicated to the terrible behavior of the average drive-through goer. As a window-man, I feel it is my obligation to educate the world on drive-through etiquette. I will relay my experiences of working the window at Not-Caribou Coffee in this blog, and explain why such dumbassery is absolutely intolerable.


This is my life at the window - where things get dairy. I mean, scary.