Dear Ms. Grande Soy Americano Misto,
I want to thank you for your business and officially welcome you to the Starbucks community, where specialized coffee drinks are no longer reserved for the esoteric and erudite elite, but made available to the wider public regardless of adherence to the coffee-shop-frequenter stereotype. However, the breaking down of these barriers, I must inform you, has made the necessity of a complicated coffee order obsolete. You no longer need to string together as many coffee-related words as you can think of to distinguish Your Drink.
At Starbucks, everyone––no one?––is distinguished.
I tell you this only because, with all due respect, I am suspicious of Your Drink, which, as far as I can tell, is actually impossible to make, an Americano being half espresso, half hot water and a Misto being half brewed coffee, half milk (I assume this is also where the soy comes into play). But I have thus far been unable to reconcile Your Drink with my barista knowledge, albeit limited.
Now, as we both know––you and your fellow patrons have made it clear that you are aware of this fact––I am a newly instated barista, a poor multi-tasker and generally uncertain behind the bar, though I try my best to be charming and humble, apologetic as I throw out the Quad Venti One Splenda Six Pump Vanilla Soy Latte that was supposed to be decaf and “make it right,” as your compatriots say.
So perhaps the problem is me.
But despite the complications of Your Drink, Ms. Grande Soy Americano Misto, you never complain––and for that, I must thank you. For though you comment on the temperature of the beverage (“because of all the scalding hot water”), you have not once complained that your beverage tastes unique each time you order it.
It must. I have made it differently every time.