Welcome to Starbucks, How May I Kiss Your Ass?

I'm done! I'm done I'm done I'm done!

No more 4:30 am wake ups and 45 minute commutes. No more nasty customers, smelly coffee and shitty pay. I'm done with French Presses, free samples, espresso shots and stupid corporate rules. ("You mean I have to take a half hour lunch, come back to work for ten minutes, and then leave for the day?" "Yes." "Well, can't I just-" "No.")

I quit!

Which means now I can say in my blog all of the things that I couldn't say before. The best of Starbucks secrets, revealed!

All corporate has it's ass-kissing, but I'm sure few take it to the level that Starbucks has us take it. No matter how rude or terrible a customer was, I had to be plesant to them. That didn't mean I didn't get my revenge, though.

If you were rude to me, you got decaf espresso, and that's that. No one can taste the difference, but a few hours into their work day, when that caffiene withdrawl headache set in, I hope they were sorry.

If you go up to a counter to place an order, get off your cell phone. Some people would call whoever they were going to meet to ask them exactly what their order was, and I didn't have a problem with that; in fact, sometimes, I'd just take the phone and let the person on the line tell me directly. Most people, though, stood there right in front of me, with a line forming behind them, yammering away about their stupid lives and ignoring the fact that they were gumming up the flow. I joked to my manager that we needed to add a "Cell Phone" button to the register that would automatically add a few cents to someone's order if they were being inconsiderate. Eventually, I just started hitting one of the flavor syrup buttons if they took too long getting off the phone. Adding a flavor to your Starbucks drink adds 30 cents to your total... and it'll cost you 30 cents if you're NOT OFF THE FUCKING PHONE WHEN I'M READY TO TAKE YOUR ORDER! They were always too wrapped up in their conversations to notice. Assholes.

Just because I work in retail doesn't mean I want to clean up after your slobby self. We had one family, mom dad and bratty three year old, who were notorious for leaving a huge mess when they came in. It became sort of legendary; other regular customers who came in after they'd left would comment on how they must have "just missed the S____'s". It was really disgusting. Finally, one day, I'd had enough. I grabbed a broom, and, while they were still sitting there, began sweeping around them. I picked up the wife's purse and swept under it, I asked the dad to pick up his feet, and I even pushed the highchair out of my way to get under it. I cleared their empty plates and used a rag to get the crumbs off the table. They started making a big show of cleaning up after themselves after that. Good. It's about freaking time.

There's stuff I'll miss though. I got to watch moms go from big and round to holding tiny, blanket wrapped bundles. I got to learn names and careers, watch little kids learn how to talk and walk and even got to make friends with people's pets. I'm glad it's over, though. Ever onward.