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Today is Pi Day (3.14… get it?) and in honor of such a momentous event, I want to share this link (courtesy of the StarTribune) to someone who only can be described as Carman’s mathmatician brother, parodying Eminem with…
Enjoy.
We have a 3-year-old son, which means, inevitably, that our house is filled beyond capacity with Thomas the Tank Engine paraphernalia.
Over the year-plus of his ongoing obsession with the little blue “Really Useful Engineâ„¢,” we’ve learned that the owners of the Thomas trademark will spare every expense where quality is concerned. They know, 3-year-old boys don’t care about quality. They want it, even if it’s crap, and they’ll whine until their parents shell out $20 for 10 cents’ worth of Made-in-China plastic.
My mother-in-law bought me the 2-DVD Rush concert set “R30: Rush 30th Anniversary Tour” for Father’s Day. (No, I don’t think she knows about my prog rock obsession, she’s just good at selecting from my Amazon.com wish list.)
Anyway, I was watching some of it today, and it was nice to see how the boys have loosened up with humor in their concerts. (OK, the humor’s always been there; it’s just more blatant now.)
In particular, I was stunned to see what was on the stage behind Geddy. No, it wasn’t a pair of Marshall half-stacks. It was a pair of Maytag half-stacks. Yes, he had two Maytag clothes dryers behind him on stage, spinning nonstop throughout the show. And next to them, one of those rotating sandwich vending machines from a cafeteria. (Well, I didn’t get the best look at it… that’s what it seemed to be, although it might have been a pie display case like those often seen at lowbrow coffee shops.)
Clearly this made quite an impression on me. It wasn’t enough to tell a pair of coworkers plus my wife, as well as emailing two old high school friends who were also Rush fans back in the day. (And when is anyone more of a Rush fan than in high school?) I had to take it a step further and share it with the two and a half people who actually read my blather.
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.
Done? Good.
And now, without further ado, the daily log…
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!
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….
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!”
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.
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.
Ouch.
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.
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.
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:
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…?”
What — in this context — is this supposed to mean?
Of course, this is Atlanta, home of Turner Broadcasting, hence Cartoon Network, hence Boomerang. Perhaps Mr. Coffee has been paid off to promote awareness of Hanna-Barbera cartoons from 1961.
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.
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
Lyrics by Bono
©1987
The implication being that I’m old everywhere else! Hey! I resent that! Just because tomorrow is my 29th birthday….
Hmmm…
(OK, I know the second one is spelled “yoke.” Let it go… you’re ruining my yolk!)
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.
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.
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!
I think the magic is gone. My fascination with Mr. Coffee has gone through the stages of any temporary obsession:
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.
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.
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, my wife pointed out a simpler explanation. Today is Presidents’ Day. And there are lots of Presidents on money.
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.
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:
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.
