These guys are quite possibly the most adventurous band out there in the “mainstream” today. (Whether or not their music is what you call “mainstream,” it’s certainly no sign of obscurity to have your album featured in Target’s Sunday circular.) It’s progressive rock for a new generation. But call it what you will; how can you not like a couple of guys who look like this?
I was in a neighborhood grocery store today. It’s one of those old grocery stores that used to be considered a “supermarket” back when it was built, probably in the late ’60s, but now seems quaint and almost tiny. It’s been remodeled, probably many times, but in general its decor looks modern but the layout of the store hasn’t changed a bit. Walking into the store is like walking into my childhood.
That fact really hit home today when I noticed, near the checkout, a very old, very faded illuminated sign/clock reading “Thank you for shopping with us.” But the thing that really caught my eye was barely visible — a long forgotten logo decal on the clock face. But even though I could scarcely see it at all, I immediately recognized it as something that has been burned into my mental image bank even though I haven’t seen it in years (if not decades):
That freakin’ owl used to give me nightmares when I was 3!
Once SLP and I get a taste for the classic Thanksgiving dinner, we just can’t get enough. We often make a turkey in late October/early November in preparation for Thanksgiving, and often within a day or two of eating the last of the Thanksgiving leftovers, we get another turkey and do it all over again.
Such was the case today. However, even though Thanksgiving was just three days ago, fresh turkeys are already hard to come by. I was at a local Cub Foods today and found several packaged fresh turkey halves, presumably cut up from the large stock of fresh Thanksgiving turkeys that went unsold.
But… when I got home, there was something about the label on the package that really did put the “scare” in “scare quotes“:
I usually avoid returning to a topic once I’ve had my say, but since coffee consumption is part of life’s ongoing journey, I felt I could make an exception in this case.
The original Can of Worms rant on this subject (January 29, 2003), of course, concerned the strangely, unnaturally enthusiastic drive-thru cashier at a Starbucks near my office, and his often bizarre daily cup holder messages.
A few days after I wrote that rant, I returned to the Starbucks (I tend to go there once or twice a week), and was surprised to find an unusually long line at the drive-thru. Something is wrong… I waited a moment in line before deciding to break with tradition — and most likely miss out on a daily cup holder message — and go inside to order.
I entered the establishment and scanned the faces of the employees behind the counter, searching for the beloved barista. He was nowhere to be found! Don’t tell me he actually read my Can of Worms rant and fled the state in shame!
Even without my favorite harmless maniac, the experience was transcendently bizarre, because the cashier I ordered from was wearing a backpack Why? WHY??? and seemed strangely familiar to me. Then I remembered him.
During the Christmas season, he had been standing outside by the drive-thru loudspeaker, taking orders for people who just wanted plain coffee, and also hawking overpriced, Starbucks-branded seasonal trinkets. Oh yeah, and he was wearing angel wings.
Anyway, back to the present (no, not a Starbucks logo Christmas tree ornament… I mean the time that is now). Today I went back, knowing that this could be the moment when I discover the dream is over.
OK, enough stalling. No, the crazy guy didn’t quit. He was back today as usual.
In honor of this momentous occasion, I have decided to create a log for all future cup holder messages. I am sure you will want to bookmark this page immediately.
And now, without further ado, the daily log…
May 21, 2003
I haven’t written about the Starbucks lately, not because I haven’t been there, but rather because Gary hasn’t. I guess he’s phasing himself out. Unfortuantely that means no cup holder messages.
For the past two days Gary has been replaced at the drive-thru window by a tag team of young novices. Both are inept in their own slightly endearing way. Apparently the “Wall of Fame” I’ve noticed inside before is actually ordinary customers who visit routinely. I am a bit hurt to have discovered I’m not on the wall, but that doesn’t stop Twitchy (one of the new guys) from trying to act chummy. Today Twitchy came on the speaker, having looked at me on the video monitor, and said “Is that you Rich?” No, it’s not. When I got to the window he asked my name. I said “Scott” and he twitchily replied “Zack?” No, Scott. Yesterday we went through the same routine but he thought I said “Chad.” Sheesh!
May 7, 2003: Celebrate Life!
At first this made me think of George Michael in his Wham! days, but then I remembered his t-shirt said “Choose Life” not “Celebrate Life.” Anyway, a nice, albeit generic, message today from Gary. When I got to the window today he said, “Oh, I didn’t realize it was you… my lens is all wet out there.” I didn’t realize he had a camera at the window. I guess I’d better stop popping zits while I order. (Just kidding. I’ll still pop zits while I order.)
Upon driving out of the strip mail wherein the Starbucks resides, I saw something quite strange. A guy in a silver late-model Jaguar was cutting through a gas station to avoid waiting at a stoplight. (OK, nothing so unusual about that.) Then he had the audacity while driving on the sidewalk to honk at a pedestrian! Unbelievable! If only that former police car with the Nebraska plates that was inexplicably slowing down traffic on 285 today had been there….
May 5, 2003: Fiesta Time!
A bit predictable, for Cinco de Mayo. Once again the events at the drive-thru were more interesting to me than the message on my cup. As I was waiting at the window for my order, Another car pulled up behind me to order. Just then a siren approached. Instead of his usual “GOOD MORNING!!!! WELCOME TO STARBUCKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Gary greeted the woman in the SUV by holding his mouthpiece close and whispering “Look out! The cops are comin’ for ya!” And then when he realized it was not a police car but a fire truck, he changed his message to “Your hair’s on fire!”
April 30, 2003: One Day Til (sic) May!
It’s been a while. Much too long. Gary seemed happy to see me. He spent the time waiting for my latte to be prepared fidgeting with a cup full of candy canes with miniature stuffed Muppet character pencil toppers on them. I guess they were for sale. I was tempted to buy Beaker. I didn’t.
April 14, 2003
Today, a dose of reality. I arrived at the Starbucks drive-thru as usual, and was disturbed to find a very long line of cars waiting to place their orders. This is not normal. Gary must have been out. Anyway, I did not have the patience to wait in that line, so I left.
But I needed coffee.
I decided to try the brand-new McDonald’s up the road. If you’ve never been to Atlanta, you probably don’t know how inconceivably bad the service is at almost all McDonald’s restaurants in the area. This seemed to be one of the better ones, and I was satisfied with the experience.
But my aforementioned dose of reality has nothing to do with the service at the McDonald’s. It has everything to do with the fact that for $2.77, I got a cup of coffee plus a chicken biscuit and hash browns. And I had been prepared to spend $3.64 just for my venti latte at Starbucks.
Of course, if I were to eat a chicken biscuit and hashbrowns every morning instead of just having a latte, I might save 87 cents a day, but I would pay dearly with a shortened life span. OK, a caffeine addiction probably is shortening my life span too, but not as much as caffeine and a daily cup of saturated fat.
April 9, 2003
First off, let me just point out that you may or may not have noticed I’ve decided to stop referring to Mr. Coffee as a “barista.” Barista is the Italian word for barkeep, and with the Italian love for coffee, it seems appropriately applied to the person who fills that role at a coffee house as well. However, I think the word stuck in my brain because it’s the brand name Starbucks applies to its multitudinous coffee-preparation apparati for sale in each store, and I now equate the word more with various unnecessary coffee paraphernalia than I do a human being. (Incidentally, “computer” was once a job description, not an electronic device, but I digress.)
As you have probably guessed, Mr. Coffee was not present today. It so happened that I went inside today instead of taking the drive-thru, since I needed to buy some beans as well as my regular venti latte. Backpack Johnny was stationed at the drive-thru today (apparently he’s Mr. Coffee’s “Number Two”), and as usual when Mr. Coffee is absent, things were chaotic. At one point I heard Backpack Johnny admonishing the other employees. I missed part of it, but I did distinctly hear him say, “That’s why we try to prepare so this stuff doesn’t happen when Gary’s gone.” So now I know his name.
I also noticed a mission statement in an 8×10 frame above the drive-thru window. I was going to transcribe the entire thing for you here, but I didn’t have time to write it all down. I did, however, take the time to memorize the part about “legendary personalities at our drive-thru.”
Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.
April 7, 2003: Syracuse Orangemen!
Mr. Coffee’s message was written with a red marker today, instead of black (presumably because he couldn’t locate an orange Sharpie).
I can glean one of three things from his message today:
He went to Syracuse.
He’s from Syracuse.
He has money on Syracuse.
As I was driving away, Mr. Coffee gave me his usual “Have a great day!” and this time, he added in half-questioning form, “See you tomorrow…?”
March 27, 2003: Top Cat!
What — in this context — is this supposed to mean?
Ah, yes. The first day of spring. It is sunny and mild today in Atlanta, and spring definitely is in the air, along with the birds returned from their winter homes. (As a kid in Minnesota, I thought this was where birds went in the winter, but I guess there’s always someplace farther south. Maybe they all just keep going until they hit the South Pole, realize it’s cold there too, and turn around.)
Of course, on the other side of the world, warplanes and bombs are in the air. I’m trying to get a grasp on my ever-shifting feelings about this war, but I will probably save those for a full-fledged Can of Worms rant.
The highlight of my Starbucks visit this morning was the clueless person in the Audi convertible in front of me. The car in front of them got its coffee and departed, and they sat there for several seconds, apparently either severely distracted or narcoleptic. Mr. Coffee leaned out of the drive-thru window with a look of exasperation. I shrugged, and debated honking. I am currently practicing the art of restraint where the horn is concerned, however, so I just waited. Finally Mr. Coffee took matters into his own hands (or rather, mouth) and produced an eardrum-shredding, narcolepsy-interrupting whistle.
On a side note, if you’ve got a lot of things on your mind, if there’s a lot of turmoil in the world, and you walk into a Starbucks at 8 PM, get a decaf. I’d like to say I’ll remember next time, but I’m sure it won’t be long again before I am up until 2 AM for no good reason.
March 14, 2003: Running to Stand Still!
A slightly dismal message (especially on my birthday), but a great song:
And so she woke up From where she was lying still Said we got to do something about where we’re going Step on a steam train Step out of the driving train Maybe run from the darkness in the night Singing Ha La La La De Day Singing Ha La La La De Day Sweet the sin But the bitter taste in my mouth I see seven towers But I only see one way out You got to cry without weeping Talk without speaking Scream without raising your voice, you know I took the poison, from the poison stream Then I floated out of here Singing Ha La La La De Day Singing Ha La La La De Day She runs through the streets With her eyes painted red Under black belly of cloud in the rain In through a doorway she brings me White gold and pearls stolen from the sea She is raging She is raging and the storm blows up in her eyes She will suffer the needle chill She is running to stand still
The implication being that I’m old everywhere else! Hey! I resent that! Just because tomorrow is my 29th birthday….
March 12, 2003: You Must Be Yolking!
(OK, I know the second one is spelled “yoke.” Let it go… you’re ruining my yolk!)
March 10, 2003: Keep Breathing!
Wow, now that’s an ambitious goal. It’s like I always say, respiration is the lowest form of aspiration. OK, I don’t always say that. In fact, I’ve never said it before. And doubt is growing over whether I’ll ever say it again.
I read this message before I got into the office. But now that I am starting to detect the semi-distinctive* odor of dead rats again, I am beginning to wonder if Mr. Coffee is prescient.
* The smell of dead rats is merely “semi-distinctive” because if you aren’t familiar with it — and aren’t exactly expecting it — it can easily be mistaken for a gas leak. Trust me. I know.
March 7, 2003: Built for the Future!
I really don’t know what to make of this. I think this is a case where a Google image search will be more interesting than anything I could say.
March 5, 2003: Go the Distance!
OK, I know it was just yesterday that I said I was going to give this up, but clearly Mr. Coffee is reading my log, and he wants me to… well… “go the distance.”
Excuse me… “GO THE DISTANCE!”
Yes, everything he writes ends in an exclamation point, and come to think of it, he does always write in all-caps, although I never accurately represent that here. That changes the whole tone! I think he’s trying to boss me around! I’m not going to take that! I quit!
March 4, 2003: Shining Star!
I think the magic is gone. My fascination with Mr. Coffee has gone through the stages of any temporary obsession:
Stage 1: Novelty
Initially I went to this Starbucks solely because I anticipated its drive-thru would be easier to navigate than the claustrophobic maze of the other Starbucks 4 blocks up the road. (I wish I were exaggerating that distance… I really do.) Imagine my delight when I discovered not only a wide, unfettered path to the drive-thru loudspeaker, but a crazed coffee fiend taking orders and handing out cup holders with quirky handwritten messages!
Stage 2: Realization
“What realization?” you may ask. Why, the realization that it was not just a fluke. This guy does this every day and I can experience it whenever I choose. Which of course is… very often! Also known as, the best way to kill novelty.
Stage 3: Routine
Stage 2 is merely a brief transition to stage 3. Soon the novelty is novel no more — it’s expected. Now, a disruption of the routine is an outrage, as negative as the initial discovery was positive. But as disappointing as those disruptions are, the event itself is never quite as exciting as it was before, either.
Stage 4: Boredom
Eventually, what once was novel and became routine no longer brings any joy. Repetition sets in, and with it, boredom. I am in stage 4 now, so I may suspend the log. Oh, I will still go to Starbucks, of course. The only thing that outweighs the repulsion of boredom and routine is unadulterated physical addiction. Caffeine will keep me coming back, on those days when I am too late or too lazy to make my own coffee. And I am sure, brief sparks of the once great novelty of the cup holder messages will flare up. Perhaps on those days I will dust off this page and share the joy of the ballistic barista with you all once again.
March 3, 2003: Spring in Your March!
One of my pet peeves is when a songwriter incorporates a cliche into their lyrics, but is forced to change the phrase slightly to fit it into the surrounding rhyme and meter. Weak! The same conditions seem to apply here, assuming that this is a reference to the phrase “spring in your step.”
Of course today is the first workday in March, so it makes sense to acknowledge both that March is here and spring is on its way. But still…. Oh well, I’ll forgive it, because his “Welcome to Starbucks!!!!!” greeting was even more impassioned than usual.
February 25, 2003
Ho-hum. Another day without the caffeine-crazed cashier and his morning message of motivation. It’s a good thing I like latte and am fostering a caffeine craze of my own.
February 17, 2003: Pass Me a President!
What does this mean? Yet again I am confounded by a cup holder message. This seems (evidenced by the appearance of the word “President”) to be a political statement. But what is it saying?
I can appreciate the need to hedge one’s bets, getting political at a Starbucks in a business-minded area. I suppose I should’ve joined the feeble hundreds at Atlanta’s anti-war protests on Saturday to see if Mr. Coffee was present. That might’ve shed some light on the situation. (Then again, I suppose it doesn’t reflect well upon my values and integrity that I would elect not to go to the anti-war protests to actually protest the war, but I would go there to see if the guy from Starbucks was in attendance.)
Update, 7:00 PM: Of course, always eager to burst my bubble, especially when it is inflated with the hot air of political conspiracy and innuendo, SLP pointed out a simpler explanation. Today is Presidents’ Day. And there are lots of Presidents on money.
February 14, 2003
It was just as I pulled up to the Starbucks drive-thru line that I realized all of my cash was in the pocket of a jacket I was not currently wearing. So I reluctantly broke out of the line and started to drive away. Then I remembered that Starbucks takes credit cards, of course, so I parked and went inside. (I suppose there’s no real reason why you couldn’t pay with a credit card at the drive-thru as well, but for some reason that’s lodged in my brain as one of those things you just don’t do, like petting a cat in the wrong direction, wearing brown shoes with black pants, or dousing yourself in gasoline and setting yourself ablaze.
Anyway, as I was saying, I went inside to buy my venti latte, which of course meant no special message from dynamo boy on my cup holder. So I had to take the stealth approach. I had to, without looking like a freak (although if there’s anyplace where looking like a freak should not be a major concern, it’s this particular Starbucks), visually scan the drive-thru area for the stack of cup holders. Success! Well, partial success.
I saw clearly that there were little white heart stickers on them, with some message printed in red (presumably “Happy Valentine’s Day”). There was also a good-ol’ Sharpie message from the ballistic barista, which I believe said, “Zap.” Zap? I guess Cupid’s gone high tech. Of course, my mind naturally drifts to the John Waters episode of The Simpsons, wherein Homer, fretting over the possibility that Bart is gay, encounters his son playing with one of John Waters’ vintage toy laser guns, repeatedly making a subtly effeminate “Zap!” sound.
February 7, 2003: It’s Friday!
Why yes, yes it is. I think he’s phoning it in these days. (OK, he was physically there and handed me the coffee himself. It’s just an expression.) Then again, maybe he didn’t mean today is Friday, but rather, “Look! It’s (somebody named) Friday!” OK, let’s run down the list:
Joe Friday. Of course he would be referring to the new Dragnet series, starring Al Bundy, and not “classic” Dragnet with Jack Webb, or the abominable Dan Aykroyd movie. I always suspected my Starbucks guy was in ABC’s back pocket.
King Friday XIII, benevolent ruler of the Neighborhood of Make-Believe. This would be my personal choice. I still use Mr. Rogers’ song “I Like to Take my Time and Do it Right” as my excuse when SLP claims I am too slow at something, usually involving the precision craft of chopping vegetables.
February 5, 2003: Nothing Compares to You!
Aww, isn’t that sweet? And he also spelled all of the words properly, not “2 U” as in the Prince-penned Sinead O’Connor song. But that still didn’t keep the song from getting stuck in my head. Oh well… it could be worse. At least it’s not the title of a Color Me Badd song.
Today has been an interesting day. I arrived at work this morning to notice that the strange smell some of us perceived yesterday in the office was even stronger today, and generally was of the natural gas variety. We called the gas company and they sent someone out to inspect our equipment. He found no gas leaks, and informed us that it was his “educated guess” that there was a dead animal somewhere in the building.
Sure enough… I moved aside a panel of drop-ceiling tile and looked inside, and about 2 feet from my face was a huge dead rat.
Another coworker, much bolder than myself, grabbed a plastic bag, and using the bag as both glove and receptacle, picked up the dead and now partially decomposed rodent, and took it out to the dumpster.
The most disturbing part, of course, is that it’s highly unlikely that this rat was working solo.