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."