Sunday, July 25, 2010

Reason Why I Hate Starbucks #927

I grew up in Starbucks country - I mean, literally and figuratively speaking, since Americans drink a lot of Starbucks coffee and I'm from a little town just south of Seattle, where Starbucks is based.  In Tacoma, you can sit in one Starbucks, sipping your Venti Skinny Vanilla Latte, and gaze directly into the window of another.  No joke.  Growing up, there were three Starbucks (all with drive-thru windows) en route to my high school.  Occasionally, I made the stop at one or two, as it was very fashionable to flounce into first period with a paper cup bearing the famous green mermaid stamp of approval and the smell of strong coffee emanating from the said cup (otherwise, I made my "ghetto mocha" at home - which involved dumping two spoonfuls of hot chocolate mix into my Starbucks travel mug, adding a heaping spoonful of Folgers on top, and filling it with hot water before running out to my car with a Pop-Tart and mug in one hand and keys in the other.  So chic.  NOT).

So it's not like I always had a disdain for this chain - in fact, it was the opposite.  I spent most of my time after school at Starbucks and studied for my AP Exams there.  But by the time I got to college, I guess I just got tired of paying exorbitant prices for mediocre coffee and sought out coffee shops with more character or charm to meet up with people.  But today, during a rare stop at Starbucks (at a service station/rest stop off the M25), I was reminded of why I despise the coffee chain so much.  Behold the remnants of my Grande (looks like a Tall to me, no?) Iced Chai Latte above.  See how much ice is in there?  Yeah.  That's the whole cup.  I paid £3.20 for a cup of ice.  And my drink wasn't even mixed.  It came in three layers.  When I questioned the barista, she rolled her eyes and said, "Yeah, you just need to mix it."  Um, hello, isn't that what I pay for?  Every time I take my business to Starbucks, I walk out upset and cursing the establishment, vowing to never go back again.  And yet I do.  It's kind of like self-flagellation.



  1. You had a car to go to High School?! And drive-thru coffee shops?! SO American.


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