Coffee Breaking Things

I think there’s some sort of unwritten rule somewhere that in any office, he that does not drink coffee is thereby declared to be the designated “coffee bitch.”

I don’t know why this is. I don’t drink coffee, why should I have to take the time to go down to Starbucks to get coffee for everyone else? I think the only reason I do it is that when it happens I’m still on the clock and I get to skip out on work for a while.

Ever visit Seattle? There’s literally a Starbucks on every block downtown. It’s insane. There’s some parts where Starbucks is across the street from another Starbucks. University Village shopping center has THREE in it alone. And even more bizarre, they all seem to do enough business to justify having so many locations.

So one morning I’m making the daily coffee run for my coworkers, and I go down the street to Starbucks. There was this new guy working there behind the counter, couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old. He had the HUGEST zit you had ever seen, right on the side of his nose. It was obviously pretty badly infected, because it literally covered one entire side of his nose.

It was horrifying, yet somehow fascinating. What was really gross was that he kept fingering the zit, and then he’d go and get people food. Thank goodness I wasn’t there to get anything, I’m pretty sure I’d blow chunks on the spot.

So anyway, the guy is obviously new. Starbucks uses this touch screen system that’s designed to be idiot proof (I know this because I worked at Jamba Juice for a while and we had a similar set up.). All you have to do is press the buttons that correspond to people’s orders. Not that hard.

This guy was having difficulties…

I had four drinks to order, and it took him like 10 minutes to ring it all up. Good god… So I’m sitting there waiting for the coffee, when who should step up to the counter?


“Welcome to Starbucks, may I take your order?” squeaked the cashier, clearly caught firmly within the grasps of on setting puberty.

“Yes. I’ll have a venti vanilla chai latte,” Batman stated, matter-of-factly.

The cashier looked perplexed. “Uh…” he kept muttering, as he poked the screen ineffectively, “I don’t think we can do that.”

“What? What do you mean you can’t do that? I have it all the time.”

“It’s not in the system.”

“Kid, you just hit chai latte, then hit the ‘add syrup’ button.”

“Nope… don’t think we can do that.”

“Are you even going to try hitting the ‘add syrup’ button?”

“There isn’t any vanilla chai latte button.”

“I know, that’s why you hit the chai latte button, then hit the add syrup button.”

“Uh… I don’t think we can do that.”

“Look… kid… Do you know who I am?”\

“Uh…. Die Fledermaus?”

“DIE FLEDER– *Sigh* Lemme speak to your manager.”

At this point someone behind him, obviously unaware of the dangers of provoking a grumpy Batman, piped up and said “Oh for god’s sake, just change your order so the rest of us can get on with our lives.”

What happened next, I’m not really sure… Batman sort of… twitched, or something. And the next thing you know, the guy’s head was turned around completely backward on his neck. He made a weird gasping noise, stumbled around a bit, then his eyes rolled up into his head and he toppled like a tree falling in a forest and landed with a dull thud on the condiment counter.

God DAMN Batman’s got quick reflexes.

He turned around and faced the cashier. From my vantage point, I could see around the side of the counter and witness the growing wet spot in the crotch of his pants as he started to tremble uncontrollably.

“Now,” said Batman in very hushed tones, “may I please have my vanilla chai latte.”

“I… I… I… I…” stammered the cashier.

“You… WHAT?” snarled Batman.

“I… I DON’T THINK WE CAN DO THAT!” he screamed in an unbelievably high pitched voice, at which point he promptly passed out and fell down behind the counter.

“God damn it. I didn’t want to pay 4 bucks for a cup of coffee anyway,” grumbled Batman as he fished around in his utility belt. A half second later the lobby was enveloped in an impenetrable cloud of smoke as he made his grand exit.

As the smoke started to clear, I decided I’d better get back to work before they started to wonder what the hell was taking me so long.

That’s when I noticed that one of the coffees in the tray was missing.

Son of a bitch, Batman stole my coffee!