Of Starbucks and Men

[AtomicWaffle†]

Ahhh, delicious iced drinks! Steven Hunt thought to himself as he sauntered into the Promenade's small Starbucks, a short distance from the food court. He wasn't really sure why they'd put it farther away from the food court, though really he preferred it that way. The food court was just too damned busy... The whole mall was just too damn busy. If it weren't for the fact that he happened to like some of the stores in the mall, he would probably never even come in here. Crowds bothered him. He wasn't really sure why, but ever since his Mom had taken him shopping years and years ago the crowds had always scared him. Remembering that panic attack he'd had in one of the clothing stores made him shudder slightly.

Seeing the small line ahead of him, Steven quietly moved into que and looked up at the small menu. Oh yes, Starbucks' wonderful little names for their drink sizes. Tall, Grande, and Venti. Jesus, what ever happened to small, medium and large? Steven decided on the "strawberry cream frappuccino" because it only sounded tasty. Damn Starbucks and their misleading drink names. It was even worse when he had to go up to order it, because it always felt so awkward saying the word "frappuccino." Maybe it was just that he felt like a fool just having the word leave his lips, or he just hated ordering things. As he approached the counter, he gently brushed the hair out of his eyes and looked at the woman standing there.

Fuck you and your silly drink size names, Starbucks!

"Hi, could I get a large Vanilla Bean Frappucino?" He asked softly.

"Sorry, could you repeat that?" She replied, leaning in closer. Steven sighed, and then leaned in closer to her as well, a slight smirk on his face. "I'd like a large Vanilla. Bean. Frappuccino."

"What size?" She said once more, clearly not hearing he'd asked for a large one. "Large..." He projected, hoping she would finally hear him this time.

"Venti?" The woman asked, seeming put off by his rising tone of voice.

"Yes!"

The woman at the counter glared at him, then called to the person behind her to start making the supposedly delicious iced drink. Steven was in theatre for fucks sakes, most people can hear him in a normal speaking voice, nevermind when he is deliberately trying to make himself seem clear and audible. Well... he couldn't blame her, it was probably a long day and she did seem a bit tired. Serving customers can get a bit trying. Having just finished a brief stint working at a bookstore, even there he had to deal with people being assholes, he couldn't imagine what he'd deal with working here. Actually, had he not left a few days ago he probably would be working at this very moment. After this year was done Steven was thinking he'd wanted to move back to Toronto with some friends, and he was considering applying for the Theater Arts program at York, or a computer sciences program at the University of Toronto. It was a stretch, but he had faith in himself.

I'm awesome.

He tossed the $ 4.25 onto the counter and took the frothy pink drink away to one of the small tables surrounded by the wholly uncomfortable chairs. "Merci Beaucoup" he said to the woman at the counter as he walked away. If Starbucks could use fancy foreign words, so could he... At least, he hoped he'd said "Thank you very much." After all these years, most of what he had learned in French class back in Canada had faded away. Oh how he missed the great white North. Good hockey, hilariously awesome Canadian things, and.... TIM HORTONS. Steven nearly choked on the Crap-puccino as he remembered how utterly wonderful Tim Hortons was, and how terrible it was that you couldn't find any in St. Paul Minnesota.

"Oh my fuck... I miss Timmies..."

The once-mildly-tasty iced beverage was now not even close to being even the slightest bit COMPARABLE to a Tim Hortons Iced Cappuccino, and he immediately got up and threw away the drink into the waste receptacle in exaggerated disgust. The woman at the counter glared even more viciously at him now, as he adjusted his jacket and began to leave the store. She began to clear her throat. He turned around and smiled, spouting sarcastically:

"Four-twenty-five for that? Christ, how do you sleep at night?"

Still with a bad taste in his mouth, Steven left the store. He was only just beginning to contemplate ways to acquire some of that wonderful Canadian coffee when his cellphone rang. The display on the front of the silver phone read "Mom."

"Hello?"

((Steven Hunt continued in A Bad Day))