I stopped at Starbucks this morning for my bi-weekly dose of dark roast. A short 50’s-ish man with glasses, not much hair, etc. was in front of me in line. “What can I get you?” the clerk behind the register asked him.
“A tall blond,” he calmly replied.
A whole range of wise crack responses filled my brain, from “isn't that what we all want” all the way to “I think I’d prefer a short brunette”. Surprisingly, I didn’t actually say any of them. The man who made this statement didn’t exactly look like someone who’d appreciate my humor, and the female clerk was, in fact, a sort of short blond, so I had doubts that my comment would fly well with her either. Sometimes, it’s just better to keep your mouth shut. I’ve learned this the hard way after unintentionally insulting multiple people that I don’t even know.
Still, I couldn’t get the visual out of my head. I imagined the Starbucks clerk walking out a “tall blond” and then I could clearly see her and the man casually slow dancing in the middle of the Starbucks coffee shop. (Yes, in case you’re wondering, this is exactly the sort of thing that I see in my head all the time, hence why I’m frequently giggling to myself when there’s nothing obviously amusing happening or being said around me.)
In case you’re totally confused, a “tall” is a drink size at Starbucks and “blond” is one of their new light roasts. So, indeed, a “tall blond” is a perfectly valid request. In fact, the clerk didn’t even blink an eye when he asked for this, further proving that they probably hear this at Starbucks all the time. Heck, they might even hear my jokes about it on an hourly basis. Perhaps it really was a good choice to keep my mouth shut.
On a similar note, a friend of mine was just telling me that he stopped in at a Starbucks recently and got into a minor altercation when trying to place an order. He supposedly went up to the counter and asked for a small caramel laced drink; the clerk yelled “tall caramel” to her coworkers in order to get it prepped and made.
He was puzzled. “No, I just want a small,” he clarified.
“Yep, tall caramel…got it,” she replied, further ringing up the order.
Thinking that she was mishearing “small” for “tall”, he tried again, slightly flustered. “No, really, I want a small. I don’t want that much to drink.”
The clerk looked at him in a mildly annoyed manner. “Yes, I know, I got it. A tall is a small”.
He did a double take. “A ‘tall’ is a small?”
“Yes,” she said, now even more annoyed.
“How do you figure?! Why isn’t a ‘small’ a small?”
The clerk was growing tired of the whole conversation. “I don’t know, sir. Those are our sizes there: tall, grande, venti,” pointing at the sign behind her. “I just work here.”
So, the next time you’re in Starbucks, make sure you remember to speak Starbuck-ian, and you may just perhaps walk out with the made-to-order mate of your dreams, that is, if you’re into blonds.
