Why You Should Never Tip at Starbucks

As I might on any given Sunday, I decided to read the newspaper today. The question, as always, was "where to enjoy my paper?" Once again, by some mysterious power that leaves humans blinded to the inferiority of Starbucks (vs. the superior Peete's Coffee or Coffee Bean--or any other coffee shop for that matter), I chose to enjoy my newspaper at... my local Starbucks. Thank you, will power.

While trying to sound like I belonged by saying something like "I'll have a tall gingerbread latte" (which, by the way, has no meaning outside the walls of a Starbucks), the cashier interacted with me in the usual obligatory fashion:

(1) With a smile so wide that left him only a dabble of face paint away from being cast as The Joker in "Batman 8: Before the Bat".
(2) With the unusually frequent and tireless usage of the words "great" and "thanks", and
(3) With the generally eerie aura that surrounds most Starbucks (and Jamba Juice) employees.

In accordance with my already hypnotized thought process, I found myself glaring at the infamous tip jar next to the cash register wondering "to tip or not to tip"?

Surely, all of us have thought about this question, its twisted moralities, and the global consequences in far more detail than we have wondered about the ongoing war that (I believe) our country is having with one of the three (or is it actually four?) countries in the Middle East. (Because the breadth of research needed to correct and confirm this last sentence is beyond the scope of this blog, I will leave it as is).

As I heard the words "here's your change, sir, have a super terrific day," I found my left hand (now holding my change--$3.05) fighting with my right hand at a Starbucks yet again. Alas! My left hand, victorious for an unprecedented third straight time this week, won again, slipping a single dollar bill (representing a 44% tip!!!) into the tip jar.

Happy and beaming with an astronomical sense of accomplishment, I stepped away from the counter with a large smile. I was certain that global economy was safe for another day! With my chest puffed out, I waited to hear those magical words: "Tall Gingerbread Latte (for our hero and savior)".

After just enough time had passed for me to visualize the parade that Starbucks would surely throw in my honor, things began to unfold.

"Tall Latte," said the barista.

Immediately, I thought "Just a tall latte?" What about the Gingerbread? How am I supposed to enjoy my paper without the scrumptious aroma of gingerbread? After all, I'm the guy! I'm the 44% guy! Surely this must be an oversight and I must speak up.

Now, mind you, I am a thirty-two year old male. Speaking up at a crowded Starbucks about how the barista must have forgotten the gingerbread is probably not the best course of action (not to mention the fact that I actually know the word "barista"). I could try to coyly remind the gentleman of his mistake; however, as we've all learned from Hollywood's famous lines (such as "Price check on extra absorbent feminine pads on check stand three"), it's not wise to speak up. Certainly, I could handle this error. I'm a survivor; I'm a warrior; this will only be a slight setback to my day.

Destined to be the martyr, not only was I the 44% guy, I was also going to be the sacrificial lamb to the gross error that was just made in Los Angeles, CA.

After quickly "fixing" my drink (translation: seven packets of sugar and 6 ounces of milk later), I decided to land at the open table next to the window (prime real estate at this Starbucks). Just as I was about to embark on my terrific afternoon, I noticed a few "issues" with my sitting station: (1) there was trash on the actual seat, (2) there were wet remnants of the last person's drink on the table, and (3) nothing was being done about it.

While clutching the newspaper to my chest and holding my drink, I somehow managed to get napkins, wipe the tabletop with one hand, and dispose of the trash on the seat in one felt swoop. I could finally begin the "Reading of the Newspaper" portion of my day!!!

Demoralized hours later, I now realize how successful Starbucks really is. I had not only managed to decide on my least favorite coffee house, but what had ensued could surely not have been real: I overpaid for coffee (per usual); I accepted and paid for a drink I had not even ordered; I had managed to one-handedly wipe the table top and throw away someone else's mess; and, finally, I somehow found it in my heart to clean up after myself so that the next person (or heaven forbid, the Starbucks staff) wouldn't have to.

Oh, did I forget to mention that for all that, I had also left a 44% tip?