All right, just play it cool. No one will notice. Just walk up and tell him what you want. It is no big deal.
“Good morning, sir! What can I do for you?”
Easy. Just lean in and quietly tell him. He can’t judge you. How could he judge you? He has no idea who you are.
“I’ll have a venti non-fat iced caramel macchiato please.”
Perfect. Nobody noticed. Now just make your way over to the bar slowly. Don’t draw too much attention.
There it is. He has it right there. Now walk up and grab it before he can say anything.
“VENTI NON-FAT ICED CARAMEL MACCHIATO FOR SAM!”
Be cool. It’s a gender-neutral name — no one knows that it’s you yet. Slow down and think.
OK. You got this.
“Oh thanks. It’s for my girlfriend.”
Nailed it. Now just smoothly walk out the door. Wait until you get to the car to put the straw in. You can’t seem too eager. They’ll never know.
“Nice drink, bro!”
Darnit.
Starbucks is the place where my masculinity goes to die. At some point in the history of the franchise, the men of the world must have gotten together at some sort of conference — probably in Switzerland — and decided that every drink from Starbucks, except a grande black coffee, is inherently feminine.
There is only one problem with that: black coffee blows. I am not Ernest Hemingway. I don’t enjoy the taste of staunch whiskey while I sit down and write. I enjoy the taste of espresso with a dash of frothy steamed milk smothered in caramel (with non-fat milk so I can get the most amount of protein for my calories). Sue me.
But does that really make me less of a man? Let’s look at the facts. About 54 percent of Americans drink at least one cup of coffee every day. Of that 54 percent, only 35 percent enjoy their coffee black, and in the U.S., about $18 billion a year are spent on specialty coffee drinks.
Let’s be real; this is not all from women. But did you ever see Teddy Roosevelt, Chuck Norris or John McClain from “Die Hard” order a tall vanilla latte? Of course not; they drank their coffee black, and that is the problem.
America has 237 years of built up manliness that manifests itself in drinks that only taste good after you have forced yourself to drink them so many times that you are immune to their astute taste — leaving others like me at a disadvantage.
But to be honest, I couldn’t care less. My masculinity does not lie at the bottom of a dark cup of coffee. When I go to the Caf, I still drown my large coffee in vanilla creamer.
As published in the Oct. 24, 2013 issue of the Pepperdine Graphic.
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