Don’t Judge the Virgin
Published May 23, 2011 | I’m sitting in a Starbucks on a busy Saturday afternoon, having escaped the house for a few hours of uninterrupted navel-gazing writing time. People are eyeballing me with either undisguised resentment because I’ve managed to score some prime real estate (comfy chair near the window with a power outlet) or, more likely, because I’ve been here for an hour and have yet to order anything. And it is here that you will find my secret shame. The dirty little secret I’ve carried for years, like herpes or clandestine mustache waxing. Are you ready? <deep breath>
I have never had a cup of coffee.
The merest hint of anything java-related repulses me—I’d rather lick a dirty diaper than try to choke down a Coffee Crisp, and Tiramisu just makes me sad. I earned my nasty badge of dishonour at an early age after ordering coffee-flavoured ice cream. Even then I took my ice cream seriously and the taste sensation traumatized me.*
Diet Coke got me through all-nighters during university and hot chocolate is my cold weather beverage of choice. How a European man with caffeine in his DNA ever married a despiser of all things mocha (and don’t get me started on Espresso or that Turkish gack) remains one of life’s great mysteries.**
But I digress. Back to Starbucks.
Today is the first day I’ve ordered something to drink in a Starbucks by myself. Usually I’m with a friend and follow that person’s lead (i.e. “I’ll have a Peppermint Tea, same size that she ordered.”).
I know this isn’t a big deal when compared to, say, Lisa Ling’s sister surviving imprisonment in North Korea, but for me it’s kind of a Big Deal.
The whole sizing situation is very intimidating for the uninitiated. I walked in and promptly fumbled my tea order. I’m Canadian and went to a French school, so for me “grande” is pronounced “grand,” not “grand-day” (although the Pepe Le Pew accent I added probably didn’t help).
The order-taker (I know they have a special name but I’m too lazy to look it up. Stop judging me!) regarded my ineptitude with equal parts mistrust and curiosity. I was so flummoxed that I forgot to get my frigging cookie and now I’m too embarrassed to go back up there.
That, in a long and wordy nutshell, is why I try to stay away from Starbucks. The reason I will keep coming back is easy—the clientele. The IM conversation I had with the Serb sums it up best:
Lori: starbucks people are weirdos
Lori: maybe not the ones that take their coffee to go, but the ones that stay are nuts
Serb: tell me …
Lori: i’m getting character sketches for the next 10 books from these wackados
Lori: i’m on a couch sharing a coffee table with 3 other people:
Lori: 1) old man wearing shoes at least seven sizes too big who keeps asking me to help him with his iced coffee
Serb: watch your wallet
Lori: 2) lady who keeps covering her face with a paper and giggling uncontrollably
Lori: (when not trying to engage strangers in conversation)
Lori: (except me…cuz I’m a bitch…obviously)
Lori: 3) dude trying to look up my skirt
Lori: but he just left cuz I kept my knees locked
Serb: squeeze that butt
Lori: whose…his? 
Serb: yours mofo
Lori: wtf – i just sneeze and the old man jumped so high he spilled on himself
Serb: time to come home. bring me an americano
Lori: i don’t know what that even means but i think i just wrote my next blog
The Mount Everest of the culturally challenged.
* This is similar to—but should not be confused with—the time I ordered the tiger tail flavour. Instead of chocolaty goodness, I was assaulted with black licorice. I still can’t drink Ouzo because of that little debacle. I’ve stuck with Strawberry ever since…I’m no dummy…except for those two previous times.
** Not really—I have other attributes that make up for it, but that’s another blog…
34 Responses to Don’t Judge the Virgin
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Blog Design Goddess
“The dirty little secret I’ve carried for years, like herpes or clandestine mustache waxing.” That was a great way to start my day. Almost as good as my mug of Americano.
Nothing says “good morning” like facial waxing
I’m not big on coffee. To me, going “for coffee” invariably means drinking hot chocolate. I do occasionally drink coffee – when offered it at someone’s house, and the only thinking I need to do is decide how much milk and sugar will fit in the cup.
But Starbucks and their ilk? Way too wanky for me! The only reason I ever set foot inside is for the free wifi. I have my own little revenge: when they ask which size – “Tall, grande, vente?” (yeah, I had to look that one up!), I always reply: “Medium”. Small, but then I guess I’m easily satisfied.
And an un-related Starbucks rant: locally, the bagel with cream cheese doesn’t actually come with cream cheese but a local imitation that kinda works but doesn’t taste or feel quite the same. That always irritates me, but somehow I just keep ordering it!
We should go for hot chocolate sometime…
I thumb my nose at those baristas, I order my MEDIUM plain coffee and go about my day.
Don’t play by their silly pretentious rules.
You are my hero!
I’m one of the people that leave. But yes, the one time I did stay, I found it was best to be quiet and keep my head down.
& I’m a newfound coffee lover. I still stumble trying to order. Bless those baristas and their patience with the non-regular people.
I think it depends on the location, too – there’s one nearby that full of nothing but yummy mummies, which is worse than the dude looking up my skirt at the other location!
I used to hate coffee but then I came to Italy and it really is better here. However, I still don’t drink it much because it gives me violent stomach cramps! The stuff isn’t good for you so better off to stay away anyways. But give me a grande Tazo awake tea and I can type my blog at 200 wpm, lol! It’s a black tea that has a great flavour if you put a lot of milk and sugar in it : ) Enjoy STBKS! I’m jealous! Italian’s gulp their coffee like a shot of tequila! No comfy chairs to lounge in and blog…I miss those days, snif.
When I was in Serbia/Croatia last summer I fell in love with the whole lounging-in-a-cafe thing, even though I was sipping water. I would have thought Italy was similar. And really, a bad anything in Italy is better than a great anything almost anywhere else
I’m still intimidated ordering at a Starbucks. I order, often (I rarely stay – only if I need to kill time and I have the kids and I’m tired . . . or, I need to steal wifi), but I always think I’m screwing it up.
All that said, I’m writing a musical about a barista. It’s going to rock (though, if I keep writing at the pace I am, it won’t be finished until about 2080)
I swear to God, last night I sat outside a Starbucks and typed in my car! I look forward to that musical…
Oh this was funny. People watching is the BEST. And Starbuck’s is a great place to do it. I used to not like coffee at all – funny, I think it was the same childhood coffee ice cream trauma that probably did it – but, alas, I had a cousin that worked me out of it the morning after a bachelorette party with a 3 hour drive ahead of us. With a Venti (that’s the really tall one) vanilla something or other that she had them put lots of vanilla in so I wouldn’t taste the coffee!! It grew on me from there.
Ohhh – see, I have the same fear of trying coffee as I do any hard drug (ecstasy, crack, meth, frappacino) – I fear that one taste and I’ll be hooked!
I’m no dummy – except for those two previous times – HA!
I never order anything except a tall latte. I just can’t bring myself to say outloud those other goofy names that make me sound like a character in a Christopher Guest film.
Hilarious.
I wanna go watch Christopher Guest films with you #bestinshowrocks
My sista!!!! I have never had a cup of coffee and always felt so alone in my virginity but I should have known!!!! Seriously, check with your parents…did they ever give a kid up? I could be it!!!
PS: weirdly, I loves me a coffee crisp!
PPS: I think they’re called coffee baristas but I just call them scary.
Exactly the same! I love coffee crisp (especially the bit size Halloween variety) but coffee? Ick! Never, ever, ever have I had a cup. People kept telling me when I became a mom that I would be begging for an IV hook-up of the stuff. So far, three kids and not a cup!
If I drank coffee with three kids I’d probably be in a straightjacket.
Hmmm…my mom claims to only have two daughters, but she WAS a bit of a hottie back in the day…I’ll keep investigating…
In the meantime – consider yourself stalked!
Dahling sistah! I too have never had a cup of coffee. I despise tiramasu (sounds like a sneeze) and mocha. But I do love my chai.
And when I write at a Starbucks, I always put my earbuds in. Sometimes I even turn on the music.
I shoulda known. And nice tip on the earbuds – that’s my new strategy.
I refuse to use their sizes and their lingo. I order a small or medium hot chocolate with skim milk and no whip cream. and if they ask if I want a tall I repeat what I said. It is my own form of rebellion. I would have been best friends with Billie Jean.
I wanna go to Starbucks with a ball-buster like you by my side!
I really, really, really loved this. You have such a way with words- clandestine mustache waxing. I want to live in your brain for a day.
C’mon in…there’s plenty of open spaces in there…
lol… I hate ordering at starbucks. I order a small… “Grande?”… no, small… “Grande” (holds up a cup)… give me a tea in the smallest cup you have available except that tiny espresso cup and I’ll go away and leave you alone…
Though now i feel like i ought to hang out there more often…because it’s apparently inhabited by weirdos, and people watching is fun!
It IS fun – as long as we aren’t watching each other and thinking, “who’s the weirdo over there berating the barrista?”
That im conversation was awesome, we won’t hold your coffee avoidance against you because while drinking coffee we’ve said almost the exact same things about people around us. Well maybe not the exact same thing, but really similar. You could always buy a bottle of water…
I actually sneak my own water in there. That’s right: stupid and cheap. It’s a gift, really…
We should totally start a club:
“Hi, I’m Mikalee, and I HATE coffee, too!”
Actually, I’ll go a step further and admit that I HATE Starbucks. Even hot chocolate. And it’s not because of the libations … but rather, the smell that adheres to my clothing after spending any time in there.
Heavy. Bitter. Overwhelmingly coffee.
Yuck…
I’m not even joking – every time I come back my husband thinks I’ve been to a brothel! I reek of cigarette smoke (it’s non-smoking) and dance hall bathrooms. What’s up with that?
Brilliant! I am amazed that you have never had a cup of coffee!!!! Are you mad, woman? Would you not like to discover the hepped up, wide awake pleasures of a cup of joe first thing in the morning? You are talking to a caffeine addict here, a befuddled addict who can only imagine what it must be like to function without my daily cup….!!
I feel the same way about ice cream…so I kinda get it.