Dear Starbucks........

Dear Starbucks:

You are kidding, right? Today was just a bad dream. It was a nightmare, right? I didn't have the experience I just had, right? Tell me it wasn't so.

You see, some people tell me I am a bit rigid. I have my routines. One of my routines is waking up on a Sunday morning, taking the kids to Noahs and then stopping at Starbucks at 19th and J Street in downtown Sacramento. They know me. They know my drinks. They are friendly. There is a group of regulars. We talk. We eat. We laugh. We watch the people walking on the sidewalks.

This morning, I get up. I start my drive downtown. I get to J St. There is some race. Maybe its a half marathon. Maybe its a 5k. I don't know what it is. People are dressed in green and running. So the streets are closed. I tried three times to get around the race, but wherever I turned there were little green people running. Fine. I give up. The green people win.

But wait...........just when I start to lose hope, I remember. There is a Starbucks at 15th and Broadway. I can sing one of my favorite songs...........It starts like this "Me and Kid Sensation and that home away from home/In the Black Benz Limo, with the cellular phone....." Hey, its a Starbucks. There are three that I go to that are simply spectacular (not just used to describe one of Jerry's girlfriends). The rest are good. Its a chain. I have certain expectations. Yeah, about those expectations..........

So we walk in to this Starbucks. It turns out it is store 5963. I didn't know that at the time.......Anyway, I walk in. There are two kids in front of us in line. The nice girl takes my order. It isn't rocket science. An organic vanilla milk box. Two kids cocoas. A plain bagel. A pumpkin loaf. A coffee cake. An egg and cheese sandwich. A venti iced mocha, decaf, non fat, no whip. It is not rocket science people.

So we get the milk. Heck, we took the box of milk. Its in the cooler. Easy. Done. We get the pumpkin loaf. Bam. Two for two. Then it appears that those little green people must have invaded Starbucks. Because it was all downhill from there.

Two cocoas come out a few minutes later. Fine. It took a bit long and it shouldn't be rocket science. Then we get my coffee. Okay, so we are 5 for 5. The wait is a bit much for a store that isn't busy. But I can deal with it so far. Then there is a bagel. It is the wrong bagel, but fine. 5 for 6 is a B, I guess. Sadly, it went from 5 for 6 to 5 for 8. Why?

That coffee cake? Yeah, it didn't come. Apparently, it is hard to take the coffee cake out of the case and put it in a bag. The egg and cheese sandwich? I think they were waiting for the hens to lay the eggs. I ask the barista who is closest to me if he can check into it. He tells me that the food is backed up so it should be another minute. Maybe another hour was what he meant.

A few more minutes. Still no food, but we got the bagel. So I get back in line with my 10 year old. A woman asks if we need anything. I explain I need the sandwich and the coffee cake. She will get right on it. Good. What can it take? 2 minutes? Maybe 3? WRONG!

I go back up and ask to speak to a manager. I thought this was going to be a good thing. WRONG! I guess I was 0 for 2. The manager is the woman who told me that she would get right on the food. I still think she is waiting for the cheese to separate from the curd. A male employee, I think his name was Michael, is also there. Apparently, he wanted to show the manager he was an alpha male. Yeah, newsflash dude: you aren't.

Now, from what I know about business, if a customer wants to speak to a manager, a manager comes to the customer. There should not be a gap of 10 feet between the manager and the customer. (Okay, exception if there is a threat of violence.) This manager apparently has a 10 foot personal space need since that is the closest she got to me.

I need her to hear me. I need her to understand how frustrated I am. So I ask where the food is. She told me it was in line. WHOA! My food should have been cooked well before now. She says she thought I wanted the coffee cake heated up. WHAT? Hot coffee cake? That sounds as good as hot ice cream. No thanks. At this point Michael decides he is smarter than me. He tells me not to yell. Mind you, if you have ever heard me yell, you know that Michael wouldn't have been able to tell me not to yell as his ear drums would have been ruptured. When I yell, restaurants stop. Just ask anyone who has been on the receiving end of that.

I tell him I am not yelling. He gets in my face. Now, at this point, I thought the manager would step forward and tell him to go take a break. WRONG! Yes, I am 0 for 3. She doesn't. I continue to express my frustration. He continues to tell me to calm down. Yeah, calm? On a Sunday morning? I am calm. Dufus then tells me that its just Sunday morning. Great, its Sunday morning. And I have things to do. I then ask the manager if all of her employees talk to customers this way. No response.

They ended up refunding me for the milk, the bagel, the coffee cake (that I never got!), the cocoa and the pumpkin loaf. My coffee and my egg sandwich, that I never got, were not refunded to me.

So, lets see: I had to pay about $8.00 to get service so bad it makes the Embassy Suites Anaheim South look good. (read: http://www.tripadvisor.com/ShowUserReviews-g32420-d224310-r152254596-Embassy_Suites_Anaheim_South-Garden_Grove_California.html#CHECK_RATES_CONT) Yes, it cost me money to get service this bad.

I am going to write to Starbucks. I hope they do something. If I ran a business and found out one of my stores treated someone this badly, I would be embarrassed. I admit it - I am a Starbucks junkie. I have had a gold card for years. I know several managers. All are great people. But this - this was a freaking nightmare.

A week from hell

I am in a bad mood. It has been a week. A very, very long week. Where do I start? Wait, I know, people have it worse than me. Sick kids. Dying parents. I get it. So this is not a "oh pity me" post. I am fortunate enough to have this blog to vent. So now I vent.

Lets see............dear douchebags who stole my credit cards - twice: you suck. Really? Is it that cool to spend someone else's money? Do you think it is a good idea to use my credit card? Sure, I don't know who you are. But I am pretty sure you are not a short, white, bald dude. And I am pretty sure I bust my ass harder than you bust yours. So you are stealing. Just so we are clear. It is theft. You are a thief. You are a no good piece of crap. I hope you end up living under a gutter.

Okay, the rest of it isn't that bad. At least, I don't think. A flat tire. New tires on the car. People who don't listen..........oh, and debt collectors.

I did get some good lines in.

Lets see. If you are a debt collector and you are attempting to collect a debt from overseas, do not be surprised when I tell you that my left testicle is smarter than you. Yes, when you tell me that the law does not apply to you and that you will do whatever you want to do, I may explain to you how my left testicle is smarter than you. What? You don't like that. Well, guess what? I don't like douchebags. I guess we are even.

But, that wasn't even the best. There is a debt collector who shall remain nameless (FS Mediation aka FS Legal or FS Law). These folks are in NY or OH or Toronto. Or some other Gawd-awful place. They are some of the most idiotic people you have met. Seriously. Find the dumbest dude you know. Then think that he is 10 times smarter than these folks.

So, yesterday, this Patty Callahan dude told my client he was the President. Then he told me he was a paralegal to some 90 year old attorney who practices family law. I asked for his address. He didn't know it. Yes, dude told me that he doesn't know his address. I may have told him that he is an idiot. May have. Not sure.

Today, I spoke with some other guy who told me he couldn't give me a fax number. I asked him "Does your mom know you are a scam artist? Is she proud of you for being a scam artist?" For some reason, he didn't find that funny. But dude is running a scam. No fax? No email? No address? Yes, we call that a scam. And he was offended. Can you believe that?

You want offensive? This is offensive: you take advantage of the elderly, single moms, women, people with disabilities. At some point, I will track you down. I will find you. I always do. Until then, please understand that my left big toe is smarter than you. And if you think I am wrong, you can kiss my white ass.