So, the line in the large Starbucks secretly built under the stairs in Liverpool One takes forever. Why is it always the case that in all coffee shops they seem to leave just one poor soul on the machine making the drinks, and have loads of others just hanging around, not even bothering to clear the tables? Eh? Eh? Answer me that!
Indeed, why haven’t they got lots of machines with lots of baristas attending them? Eh? Eh? Why just one? Eh? Eh?
Not-that-having-to-wait-forever-for-a-coffee-fix-is-in-any-way-extremely-irritating.
A minor distraction from the tedious wait came from the very nice young lady in front of me who was typing furiously on her iPhone. I was able to gaze over her inviting cleavage and to completely absorb myself in the textural conversations she was having. She was texting to three or four different people at once and relating the story of how she regretted sleeping with Mark and was considering blocking him so she didn’t have to face him.
Anyway, when it came to my turn to be served I barely was able to crack my dry vocal chords into the shapes and vibrations needed to order a ‘Venti Mocha please’. The serving guy tried to upsell the origin espresso for an extra 20p, which I smugly interrupted with the nod that we Starbucks app Gold members do when we are communicating to the server that we are allowed it for free, and then he asked my name. Recently I’ve taken to using the name ‘Lucifer‘ in order to make them write it on the cup. So I said, “Lucifer” which he started to write on the cup.
He looked at the cup and said “Oh” in a very startled voice and immediately went to what must have been a manager (i.e, one of those standing around doing nothing) and said, “What should I do about this?”
Well, I panicked.
Maybe the Lucifer thing had upset them, and instructions to bar me had been flashed around all branches and the guy was getting confirmation that he mustn’t serve me!
I immediately started to plan an exit strategy that would have to be far too cool for Mark’s one night stand cleavage girl to notice and to share with her three or four mates.
Before I could flee, the server returned and handed me a large piece of paper.
OMG! It was a Starbucks banning order.
Except it wasn’t. Random cups had had stickers of pumpkins stuck on them. Those who got a cup with a pumpkin sticker attached were to be handed something. It was a lucky dip thing inviting me to open the sealed section to see if or what I’d won. Confused and full of flight adrenalin, with an ever lengthening line of people waiting to be served, I felt like I was taking an hour to tear along the dotted lines. But soon, there it was, I could have a free pastry it said.
OMG! Now even more delays for those behind me as I had to make a decision and then the server had to get the pain au raisin I stammered for, it being the only pastry I could think of.
Well, well, well. This is the first thing I’ve ‘won’ in ages. I think I might go and buy a Euro-lottery ticket to see if I’m on a winning streak.
England's England 