Baristas of Breve-ville

Dear Especially Perky Baristas that Won't Leave Me Alone,

How are you this morning? OMG, like, I KNOW, right?
...
Do me (and your other terrified customers) a favor and remove the espresso I.V. from your vein for a moment. We need to have a chat - you know, one of those things you're so fond of having at O-Dark-Thirty in the morning...?
Your perkiness is at whole milk levels; something that no one should ever succumb to on a daily basis. If I were to be honest - which, let's face it, what's the point? You only remember me because of my tipping tendencies - I'd say that you'd need to knock it back to a watery, almost see-through 'skinny'.

The last I checked, the following apply to you:
1. Your job is to supply me with caffeine in the form of my choosing.
2."Starbucks" isn't a language.
3. Judging your customer's drink is frowned upon.
4. Excessive perkiness doesn't improve the taste of the beverage.

I fail, then, to understand why I - and my java-fiending friends - are having to live in fear of your multiple personality ways! One second you're Chatty Cathy, the next you're Depresso Espresso.

However, since my love affair with the coffee bean is a deep, abiding one... and your stores are the most abundant (and freaking addictive)... I have brainstormed a (brief) list of solutions.

1. Stop trying to change my freaking order.
(I know you have a sales goal to meet. I've worked retail, I've worked food service, I get it. What doesn't make sense to me is why, after I've ordered my usual (tall caramel macchiato - I LOVE YOU!!!!), you proceed to up-sell me.
"Would you like to try that with whole milk?"
"How about an apple fritter with that?"
"Ooh, would you like to add fifteen more shots?"
I'm sorry, Susie/Becky/Tiffany/Lucy/Cici/Katie/Ee-ee, but my ass would likely explode if I were to go on any of those detours. Let's stick with the order, m'kay?

2. I took German for 6 years and ASL for 3; I don't need to learn another language.
(Why must you correct me when I say "small", "medium", or "large", Oh Foamer of my Froth? YOU KNOW WHAT I'M REFERRING TO... I know you do, because you immediately - and ever so passionately - correct me with "tall", "grande", or "venti". Um, wha-? Are you going to make my drink wrong because of some (non-existent) language barrier? I'm sorry, but if the Latino gentleman making my Orange Chicken at Panda Express can understand me, I'm thinking you can, too. Unless using your branding terminology will magically take the burnt taste out of the espresso you're pulling, LET IT GO.)

3. Give me the stink-eye when I order my drink with whole milk one more time, and I will kick your breve-booty.
(Remember my first point, about not up-selling me? Well, when I DO decide to indulge a wee bit and order a grande (yes, terminology) whole milk eggnog latte with whip (ok, that's a crap-ton of indulgence, but I'MPREGNANTLEAVEMEALONE), don't you think it's a taaaaad rude to pointedly glance at my belly/hips/bat-wings? I don't need your judgement, Oh Size Two Mochachino Mistress... I don't need it one bit. What I do need is a double chocolate brownie to drown out the guilt I now feel.)

4. Greet. Take Order. Smile. Give Change. Lather, rinse, repeat.
(Close your eyes for a minute - you may need to step away from the bar for a second, I wouldn't want you to burn yourself - and take a journey with me. It's early on a Monday morning, it's raining, and the sun is refusing to make an appearance. Your store is full of what you first assume to be the walking undead... but, no, you realize... it's a crowd of overworked, under-rested adult members of society. Their slow 'shuffle-stomp-stop' pace to your counter does little to distract from the vast emptiness in their eyes. What is the proper way to greet said zomb-er, uh, customers?
A. "GOOOOOOOOD MORNING! Welcome to Starbucks!!! OMG, have you noticed this RAIN?! It's almost enough to make me kill myself, you know? Okay so, like, what can I get started for you?"
B. "Good morning, Ms./Mr. How are you? Oh, hold on, your sweater is aDORable... is that Vera Wang? No? Good, I hear she uses child labor, and my Econ. professor, who totally looks like a mixture between George Clooney and Diane Keaton, said that child labor is a result of globalization. Anyway, would you like try our new Latin American blend?"
OR...
C. "I'm sorry you have to be alive right now. What can I get you to make it better?"
I'll give you a hint: A and B are out.

All-in-all, I'd say this was a very therapeutic letter. I was able to get things off my chest and, if you were to read this, you would (of course) take all of my suggestions to heart and magically transform yourself into the Magical Mocha-slinging Sirens that I know you have inside of you.

In all sincerity, I wouldn't keep coming back if I hated the service. I appreciate your ability to whip up some of the best caffeinated beverages this side of 4-LOCO... and still have the grace and patience to deal with some of the craziest customers in the world. My love affair with the caramel macchiato has gone on for over a decade (not at all worrisome), and I owe it all to the baristas who make it juuuuuust right.

Now, if you don't lower the price on your holiday drinks, I'm going to have to cheat on you with Tully's WAY more than I have been. I may be an enthusiastic drinker o' the java, but I am one slutty customer.

Keep it frothy,

Krystal

Office Park Co-habitors (Pt. 1)

Dear Renters of Office Space Near Me,

How are you?
No, wait, don't answer that. I know exactly how you are (along with how many bowel movements you have, your favorite cheese, and the name of your grandfather's Proctologist), because you blab it in every open space near my office suite; the hallways, the bathrooms, the lobbies, the weight room... it's enough to make me want to pour Ex-Lax in your water cooler.

The last I checked, the following apply to you:

1. You have your own office.
2. You have access to cash with which to buy candy, and a bowl to put it in.
3. You have your own cell phone.
4. You have the ability to put your makeup on while parked as well as while driving.

I fail, then, to understand why you insist on plaguing me with your constant jibber-jabbering annoyances. There are over 100 different tenants in this office park; the least you can do is stick to some common courtesies.

However, since I am a conscientious Co-Inhabitant of Office Land, I have brainstormed a (brief) list of solutions.

1. Stop conducting business (or referencing your "biiiiidness") in the common areas of the office park.
(The lobby of our building, while generic and outdated, is a bright, open area where many of the tenants like to take their breaks, stretch their legs, and escape from office politics for a little while. Why, then, do you insist on conducting business calls in our Safe Place?! I have lost count of how many times I've been taking a breather or calming myself down over some new drama, when someone comes stomping in to the lobby, swearing on and on about the latest batch of financial reports.
This, Oh Ruiner of Times Enjoyable, is what my brain then runs through:
1. Oh JEEBUS, they're annoying.
2. Wait... did he just say "actuarial"?
3. Oh, shityshityshitshit, I haven't booked ____'s hotel room, and he's giving his presentation on Friday!
4. No! Friday is our executive meeting!! I haven't run financials or done the blanket approvals for AP/AR, and it's already 4:00!
5. WHY AM I NOT BACK AT MY DESK SLAVING AWAY?!?!
6. Ooh, a penny...!
This doesn't just extend to business calls - calls that you could be making IN YOUR OFFICE... the one you're paying RENT for - but to personal or side-business as well. For the 70th time, I do not want to buy Avon, host a Tupperwear party, join the La Leche League of Bellevue, co-sponsor your child's (likely crappy) soccer team, volunteer at Little People's Anonymous, or help you pick out scrapbook designs.)

2. Stop pretending to stop by to chat when your entire focus is on my candy dish.
(Don't make it dirty. Now... here's where you're really running into a problem: I'm a (part)Jewish girl, who happens to handle our organization's finances, and who also happens to have a 1.5 year old at home. Do you know what that means, Oh Eater of My Edible Excellencies? I can be the stingiest penny-counter you have ever met. Do you then think it wise to 'stop by for a quick chat' in order to consume handful after handful of the candy I just bought for our office and legitimate visitors? If so, keep eating... I've left a niiiice piece of strychnine in there for you.)

3. Instead of telling your coworker the details of last night's diarrhea marathon while walking down the hallway, up your text message allotment on your cell phone and take that route instead.
(Just this morning, I walked in to the Women's bathroom on the second floor of the 'B' building. Both stalls were occupied... but that didn't kill the conversation going on inside, nope. Two women were conducting verbal comparisons of the color of urine they had produced. Please, stop and contemplate what walking in on that conversation was like for me.
...
..
.
Just STOP IT!)

4. Repeat after me: "Drive... park... then apply mascara."
(Your boss would rather you show up alive and well (hooray, productivity!) than hobbling and bleeding (hooray, Krystal's temper!). I promise. You know what else I promise, Oh Swerver of the SUV? I promise that the next time I come grill-to-grill with your car in the parking lot because you didn't want to wait the 35 seconds it would take to park before applying your layers of makeup, I will not swerve out of your way. You'll get a to buy me a new car, and I'll never let you forget it. I mean, really... how good of a job are you going to do on your makeup if you're having the ever-so-inconvenient responsibility of operating a two-ton motor vehicle anyway? I'm just looking out for you.)

All-in-all, I'd say this was a very therapeutic letter. I was able to get things off my chest and, if you were to read this, you would (of course) take all of my suggestions to heart and magically transform yourself into the Considerate Examples of Professional Neighbors that I know you have inside of you.

In all honesty, this is one of the nicest places - location and building-wise - I've ever had the privilege to work out of... second only to the Port of Seattle (but, really, who can compete with a saltwater stream running the length of the ground floor... or being on a pier in Seattle, with a view of the Blue Angels as they fly by... or being only 5 minutes from Pike Place... or - ah! Ok. Sorry...). I guess what I'm trying to say is that everyone has contributed to making this a safe, well-maintained place to work, and that is something I seriously appreciate.

Now, stop cat-calling to all the construction men outside. You're making it increasingly difficult for me to lure one back to my office.

See you in the bathroom,

Krystal

Bosses, Managers, Supervisors (Pt. 1)

Dear Bosses of the World,

Could you all step into my office for a minute? Thaaaaanks...

It has come to my attention, and the attention of thousands (plus or minus a few million) of other employees around the country, that you are getting really close to "intolerable". Whether it's your need to micromanage your staff, or your severely misplaced distrust of their capabilities, we are starting to notice a disturbing trend. We are confused. We are not pleased.

The last I checked, the following apply to you:
1. You get paid more than we do.
2. You (should have) more responsibility than your subordinates.
3. You agreed to abide by the same Employment Handbook that your employees did.
4. You should be a motivator to your employees, not a stumbling block.
5. You're human, like us. We hope.

I fail, then, to understand why your modus operandi is so different from ours. Is the exponentially higher pay scale that the company forks out for your "intellectual property" not a tidy enough sum for you? Are you out to prove that, yes, there is a "wrong side of the bed" and yes, you CAN wake up on it every single day?

However, since I am a hard working, committed, team-player of an employee, I have brainstormed a (brief) list of solutions.

1. Stop bitching about your salaries in order to be "on the same level" as your staff, unless you want us to mug you and take your "pitifully small" checkbooks.
(This is simple, Oh Commanders of the Cubicle, and will make for a happier team of workers who are less prone to key your Mercedes in the garage. Chances are, we know what you bring home on an annual basis... knowing you, you've probably blabbed about it on the phone to your significant other at a high volume so that we would just "happen" to hear the figure six or seven times. Are we supposed to be impressed, or feel sorry for you? When you try to commiserate with your employees over how little they are making in relation to their perceived worth and contributions, you don't come across as "one of the team" or "on the same level"... you come across as an "douche-waffle" who drives a freaking Mercedes SLR McLaren as your commuter vehicle.)

2. Stop delegating YOUR duties to your subordinates before we decide to rise up and eliminate your position altogether.
(See... this is the problem: Your employees already have enough on their plates without you cherry-picking your own tasks and dumping the rest of the steaming mass on their desks. Did you not get the memo about being replaceable?)

3. Stop bending the rules to fit your desires, unless you're also willing to grant an extra three weeks' vacation to everyone else.
(Whether you're playing FarmVille online, checking your stock purchases, or planning your next family trip to Disneyworld, chances are you're breaking the rules. We, your Employees of Inestimably Great Worth, don't care. We just want to be allowed the same privileges. What makes you all so special that you get to surf the web, file your toenails, or chat with your spouse while texting your side-action and we can't?)

4. Stop looking at, buying, displaying, and believing in those god-awful 'motivational posters' before we use them to cut you with... or start putting up our own.

(Is it really so hard to support your staff? Why else would you resort to posting a "Hang In There, Baby!" poster on your (perpetually closed) office door? Instead, try setting team goals, having a random 'pizza Friday' (which you pay for, not us), or even sending a quick "Thank you for making me look competent" email every once in a while. That instills a greater sense of workplace loyalty than that $3.99 poster ever could... and it isn't nearly as tacky or off-putting to our customers/visitors.)

5. Stop acting like you are infallible, or else we will stop supporting your delusions and you will find yourself naked in a world of hurt.
(Your WoW characters might be the most badass Rogue-Warlock-Mage-thingy ever, but you, Dear Incompetent Idiots in Charge, are not. You guys screw up the system more often than you facilitate progress, and even then make excuses for your lack of ability. The only reason we allow you to stay in power like we do is because we have no desire to lead for fear that your position is actually a curse, but that's a theory we're willing to test if you all don't slow down and listen to your workers. We're the ones in the trenches, carrying out your commands, meeting your objectives, and making your money. Listening to your breadwinners may be the smartest thing you've done since successfully emerging from the womb.)

All-in-all, I'd say this was a very therapeutic letter. I was able to get things off my chest and, if you were to read this, you would (of course) take all of my suggestions to heart and magically transform yourself into the Less Annoying A.S.S.H.O.L.E.s (Arrogant Supervisors Stressing Honest Over-worked Laborers Endlessly) that I know you have inside of you.

Sincerely, I know it takes a lot to run a company. Whether you are a manager of a chain store or a CEO of a corporation, a lot seems to rest on your shoulders with more being added every day. What I have said in this letter isn't (entirely) meant to bash you down (well... yeah, it is), but instead, to point you towards a better vision of Boss-Employee relations.

Now, stop peering down my shirt during staff meetings or I swear that I will staple your man-parts to your leg.

See you at the water cooler,

Krystal