Friday, July 31, 2009

Starbucks etiquette

This morning on our trip through the Starbucks drive-thru I had a large order. Four drinks to be exact. One for Amy (my pretty, and dedicated co-coordinator at Athens Mothers Center), one for me, one for Rob (to soften the blow of spending monies on overpriced sweet caffeine-y goodness), and of course the errant bottle of water I can never get myself to drink.

The barista-boy at the window was so cute and witty it made me smile. But when I politely asked for a drink-tray for my numerous beverages he informed me he had given the last one to the lady in front of me because her kids wanted one to play with. Excuse me? I find it a complete breach of etiquette to request a drink tray when:

  1. You don't need one.
  2. I do.
  3. You are in front of me and take the last one.

He and another member of the Epps Bridge Starbucks Brigade began peering curiously through my open window when they spotted Grace in the back seat. I unrolled the back window so they could get a better look and fully appreciate the adorability of my daughter. However, darling Grace had a scowl on her face.

Barrista-boy: "What a skeptical looking child you have there."

Me: "Yeah, she can't believe we didn't get drink-tray either."

stimulating the economy, one trip the Clinique counter at a time

Events from yesterday, Thursday, July 30th.

It all started yesterday morning when I received an email I assumed was spam but was truly legit. A 30%-off coupon for the GAP, Old Navy, BR, etc. was patiently waiting for me in my inbox. It had a bar code at the bottom and did not require me to fill out any random survey or forward to a gazillion friends to be activated. However it did encourage me to forward in efforts to share the savings (which of course I generously did). Included in the forward was husband Rob's email in efforts to "plant the seed" for the savings we would incur upon my utilizing aforementioned discount.
Rob came home for lunch and I discretely mentioned my need for more "me" clothes and that I was planning an upcoming venture to the mall during his basketball game that evening. I had the upper hand because a) he likes to have free time, and if it infringes upon time he is usually home with us, I can usually spend that block of time in retail therapy, and b) I had so innocently planted the idea in his subconscious by the coupon-gram via email.
The husband is not new to my tactics, and thus had some ammunition. In efforts to thwart the spend-o-thon he was foreseeing, he suggested that I pay for half of the collateral-checking-account damage with funds from the yarn barn I earn through teaching the world to knit. Well-played, Mr. Kalloch. However, he can pry my spending credit from my cold dead hands because there are a set of Addi-Click needles arriving to that store any day now with my name written all over them. Quickly I combated with the notion of "I'm saving for the double stroller of my dreams," because I will obviously need one with us trying for a second child. Let us be truthful, we all know he will not take spending upwards of $700 for baby-wheels lightly. (For the record, I have NO intention on contributing toward this expenditure because clearly what's mine is mine, and his is OURS.) He rolled his eyes and kept his stance.
"You'll spend $90 or so and have no remorse, but if I make you fund half, I know you'll keep your spending within limits," he expressed (truthfully).
I responded with a smile, nod, and eye-roll (my trademark non-committal response).
In the end I spent a little over $80, and halved NONE of it.
  1. It was less that the $90 he had so blatantly stated prior to the shopping.
  2. Only one item at the GAP was purchased for me, and the other four for Grace, so that doesn't count. ( I am shamelessly addicted to baby clothes, BTW)
  3. Items bought at the Clinique counter are makeup. Translation, a "need" which falls into the category of things our handsome breadwinner provides for his wonderful family.
  4. Stimulating the economy is part of our patriotic duty, and I love this country.

End of story. (insert Lilah-grin here)