Dear Starbucks Order Taker,

While I don't normally use the Starbucks drive-thru, when I noticed the completely free drive-thru line this morning I simply couldn't resist. I pulled up to place my thrice-weekly order, a tall skinny vanilla latte, and was greeted with a peppy voice pulsing out of the order box: "Good morning and welcome to Starbucks, would you like to try a cup of our new Pike Place roast with one of our new top pop donuts?"

First, that's a mouthful. Second, now I'm beginning to understand why your damn drive through line is so fucking long every morning. If you read a chapter of War & Peace to every customer who comes through, it's going to take a hot minute. Third, no, I don't want to try a damn new roast. You roast your beans to hell and render a plain old cup of coffee completely undrinkable.

But did I say that, even though I was thinking it? No. Alas, you held my morning salvation, in the form of an expresso shot, in your peppy little hands. I just said, "Uh, no, I'd like a tall skinny vanilla latte."

Then you asked me if I wanted anything to eat. I think by this point we've established that I understand how this ordering thing works. If I'd wanted a nasty, pre-made, tasteless muffin, I would've ordered it the first go 'round. The coffee will be just fine, you dolt.

Again, using restraint, I just said "no." Then I was asked to hold on a minute while you got my total. You know what? I don't really care. I know the answer: the total is TOO FUCKING MUCH FOR A CUP OF COFFEE. See, I know that, yet I come anyway, as I am a fool. An addicted fool.

I pull up to the window and another peppy, hip chick takes my card. She then forces some literature about a Starbucks card into my hand. Are they fucking kidding me? I pull off, and wonder if the hassle was worth it.

I take a sip, and decide that mediocrity has a price. $3.27.