“You know what would make this green tea soy latte better?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.”
This is an actual conversation I’ve had before, while orally worshipping the frothy forest colored beverage before me. The world morphs into a Monet of the senses during those first few sips. Speaking to me’s useless as I seek to satisfy the fiend within. However, it didn’t take long for me to move onto (even) greener pastures and expect my current Starbuckian seaweed shaded go-to to follow suit. Indeed, it could be improved, I deduced. Because once I made the switch over to coconut creamer in my at-home morning cup o’ joe, I had a whole new addiction in my life. Thusly, I demanded to know why the eff Starbucks hadn’t followed suit. If nothing else, I thought, they could charge even more than they already ridiculously do.
Because being willing to spend $5.00 on their small/tall/whatever size is definitely an addiction induced mental illness.
And it’s one that I can explain about as well as I can combat.
Same goes for my dad. He’s actually an excellent example of said obsession – he’s the type who’ll save shitty hotel soaps now to decrease grocery store costs later. Yet, he’s there every morning, waiting in line for a mug o’ small fortune, while trying to convince himself that being a card carrying gold member somehow mitigates what amounts to – at a very minimum – $150 per month. In fact, he’s such an addict that I fully recognize all the familiar signs of a junkie already thinking ahead toward his next fix while procuring the current one – and getting each at a discount (more money saved to go back into the ‘bucks fund). Case in point: if you’re in the café line with him, don’t even think about ordering without charging it to his card which will ultimately land him a freebie down the line. If you so much as politely decline (“Oh no – that’s okay! Thanks, though”), you’ll witness an immediate transmogrification ensue of humiliating and psychotic proportions – his countenance will darken, he’ll stab your dorsal side with his paired pointer and middle finger like it’s a glock pressed to your spine, demanding that you “just do it!” Finally, after seeing how horrified the customers in your periphery are, you’ll acquiesce. And then you’ll utter through tears with a shuddering inflection to the cashier, “I… I … *sob*… I’m gonna put this on this gold card today… Totally of my own violation… I mean volition! Volition! Please don’t kill me, dad! I’m your blood! Please, go to recovery! We’re gonna get you the best help!”
The telltale signs of addiction hijacking your last shred of sanity and culminating in a bloodbath.
I know it well.
(Daddykins and I enjoying free coffee after all the patrons and baristas fled. Couldn’t imagine why…)
And the reason I know it well is half ’cause he sired me and half ’cause it’s exactly how I felt when I saw that Starbucks is now offering… coconut milk. Yes, I was all ready to finish the article about it from inside the nearest store while waiting for my own green tea coconut latte, but then I heard that they aren’t selling it till February 17th. The bastards. Good timing, though, I suppose. I mean – after everyone single is wallowing their post-Valentine foreveralone feels, why not cure it with the most condoned addiction there is? In new and improved form? As for me, I’m not 100% jumping out of my seat because it’s coconut milk and not creamer. But I’m willing to give it a go anyway.
Mostly ’cause I’ve hit my tolerance with soy.
Which means it’s time to go back to the dealer to try something new.
(Joe-nsin’ dads optional.)