Gimme a Tall, Caramel, Nonfat, Whipped Cream, Xtra Hot, Caramel Macchiato. With a Shot of Rudeness, Please.

So I’m not a coffee drinker. [GASP!] But I do like to have a Starbucks latte every now and then because, well, they’re yummy. Although as far as I’m concerned, Starbucks is just a place with a bunch of different hot chocolate flavors. I don’t go there often enough to be one of those caffeine-junkie afficionados who have the menu memorized and are fluent in Starbucks. But I do go enough to know something about ordering a dang cup of coffee. I mean I do have a professional degree and all. So why is it that each time I venture inside one of them I leave feeling like my womanhood has just be stripped away from me??

First I get the “hurry up and order you pathetic coffee ignoramus, you” look as I approach the counter. I guess because the regulars come in barking their usual order as soon as they step foot in the door. I, however, like to peruse the menu and see what’s new. Maybe I want to try the special of the day. Or maybe I want to see all the different kinds of syrups they have so that I can try something new today. Or maybe I feel like having a [GASP!] tea. But, no. I always end up ordering the same thing because I feel pressure to hurry up and order lest I come across as a member of the shunned non-coffee drinker caste.

Then, come the “eye rolls” when I order my latte “skim…with whip.” WHAT.IS.THE.PROBLEM? I get the skim so I can have the whip! Duh. And yet the barrista can’t help but make me repeat my order and have a pained look on her face like I just broke a sacred Caffeine Code or something. Oh, and did I mention that I order it decaf? That really sends them over the edge.

But this last time, on Saturday when I was freed from my shackles had a moment to myself to leave the house and get my hair done (woo hoo!), I decided that I felt like a latte. And so I made my way to the counter — slowly, so that I could have my order ready by the time I reached the register — and my eye caught the special of the day: “Dulce de Leche” Perfect! And, just to make it extra sweet, I decided that I would drum up the courage to ask for caramel syrup too. Well. If it were only that easy. Silly me. I asked for a “Shot of Caramel” which elicited a look of sheer disgust from the stringy-haired college kid serving me. She said “Do you mean a shot? Or do you mean syrup?” Dammit, I don’t know! Just get the caramel flavor into my cup. WHY is this so difficult?? I shamefully mumbled “Syrup. Yeah, the syrup.” Once my order was up I grabbed it and high-tailed it out of the cafe with my head hanging low. I just knew the entire place was rolling on the floor in peals of laughter at the dumb-girl-whose-hair-was-a-mess-and-didn’t-even-know-a-shot-from-a-syrup.

That’s IT. I refuse to subject myself to this humiliation ever again.

Until they come out with a banana or coconut latte, that is. Best believe I am studying up for that day. And when it comes, I’ll be back. And I’ll be ready. Y’all just better watch out.

[And for laughs, you've got to read this post by a disgruntled Starbucks barrista. It's priceless. And it shows that it's not all in my mind. Warning: includes profanity]