Coffee Rage

It rained yesterday. Like, really rained. The sky opened and giant, cold raindrops poured down. It was not pleasant out is what I'm saying.

I was meeting a group of people at someone's house and my route takes me by a Starbucks drive-through so I stopped for drinks. Four drinks to be exact. Which doesn't feel like an unreasonable number of drinks to order at a drive-through window. I would never pull up and order, say, twenty drinks but four is totally within reason. I could have had four coffee-drinking adults in my car (I didn't. It was just me and Pops. But still. I could have.)

So! I pull up to the Starbucks. It's neither the morning nor lunchtime rush. There were a few cars in front of me but the location wasn't overly busy. It was a standard weekday morning. I ordered my drinks at the talky-box and pulled forward to the window to collect my drinks.

And there I waited.

I waited for five minutes. Maybe ten. I recognized the window guy as someone who's been there for a while and knows his stuff but his demeanor and that of the woman making the drinks made me think that he was training her. So whatever. I have to wait a few extra minutes for my drinks. I'm still in my nice, dry car. Poppy is still asleep in the backseat instead of protesting being moved from her car seat to stroller. I'm about to enjoy some delicious caffeine. All is good.

And then all of a sudden there's an aggressively highlighted blonde woman shouting in my car window about how she doesn't have time to wait fifteen minutes for coffee.  

Totally flustered, I managed to squeak out, "this is Starbucks!" while my brain caught up. (I say the dumbest stuff when I'm caught off-guard. Like seriously dumb.) She turned to scream at the Starbucks employees while I looked around and assessed the situation. The driver's side door of the car behind me stood open and no one was inside. The screamer had obviously been waiting behind me, raging, and finally could not take it anymore. She exited her vehicle, in a rainstorm, to yell at me and the people earning just above minimum wage to make her over-priced coffee.

Now, I don't know her life. Maybe she was having a terrible day. Maybe she was on her way to the hospital to visit a sick loved one. Maybe she just found out her partner is cheating on her. Maybe she just got fired. I don't know. And I kind of don't care. I don't care how bad your day (or your life) is. This is a society. There are rules. One of the rules is that you don't get to yell at people for not making your coffee fast enough. 

Finishing up her rant at the Starbucks employees with a hearty, "get to it!" she turned to me and hissed, "I don't have time for this." I'm sorry, you don't have time for what? You don't have time to drive your (nice) Mercedes to a place where you don't even have to get out of your car, someone brings the coffee right to you, and all you have to do is give them a bit of cash and, I don't know, not be a complete asshole? Gotcha.

To sum it all up: some people are terrible. Let's do better.