starbrats

 

It’s 3:30, energy is waning. Time to give Starbucks business.  I hate to do it but yes, like every other loser out there I’m a sucker for convenience.

I’m not alone in the need.  The line is always long at this time but now it’s not just long, it’s slow. In between office dwelling schmos are kids. What need does a kid have for Starbucks? Their hyper health-conscious parents won’t let them have anything that isn’t organic so you can be damn sure caffeine is out of the picture. So if Billy’s not getting a double latte, why is he in a coffee shop?

Here’s why: yuppie moms and dads (or babysitters hired by yuppies) are training the next generations of consumers. Best not to wait till adolesence to figure out whether you’re a grande or a venti. Better know now if you like your soy milk sweetened or pure or maybe it’s  almond milk for you.

So my 5 minutes on line get longer every day because I’m stuck behind Susie Q, who’s wearing her low rise designer jeans and learning the art of Starbucks right at the ripe old age of three. First they debate:

[Please note: italics represent a high pitched whine. You know Fran Drescher? Like that. But with a fucking lisp. And in a tiny little Chip&Pepper-sporting body.]

Parent: What do you want to get? 
Brat:I wanna hot chocolate!
Parent: But, it’s too hot for hot chocolate.
Brat:OK, I wanna cold chocolate.
Parent: You mean chocolate milk.
Brat: Nooo (indecipherable squeal) 
Parent: How about juice?
Brat: Ok, I’ll have juuuuuuuuuice. 
Counter Person (who totally reads takebacktheisland): Next. 
Parent: Ok, tell the woman what you want [Child is actually quiet] Order. [Child runs away] Get back here.
Brat, while running through the store: I wanna nooooooow juiiiice pwease.

And scene.

As an amendment to our additional manifesta, we’d like to decree that no children should be allowed in establishments that serves any mood alternating substances so bye bye bars, hash bars, coffee shops, and let’s take back Park Slope’s Tea (or well, “Teat”) Lounge.

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