Okay. Okay. I admit it. My wife Linda and I really like Starbucks coffee. We have about 8 Starbuck mugs in our kitchen cabinet. We are both gold members (which means we get free refills). We’ve learned the specialized vocabulary: “grande,” “venti,” “machiatto,” “barista,” “skinny” (I never use this one), “latte,” or, my favorite: “a venti 7 pump vanilla, extra-hot, non-fat, caramel swirl on top and bottom, no-whip cream.”
I have enjoyed studying and writing at Starbucks, although it can be a loud environment (unless I bring my earphones). I once wrote a short story about a customer’s habit of eavesdropping on other people’s conversations which you can read here if you wish.
At any rate, my wife and I went into Starbucks after garage-selling the other day. I ordered a “grande bold, room for cream.” Linda stepped up to the counter (we both order separately so we can get our individual stars) and said, “grande Christmas blend, no room for coffee!” The barista looked at her and laughed. She meant to say “no room for cream.”