An Open Letter To Starbucks


You are a wicked mistress. I recognize my descent into state of beverage delusion.

I’m the prodigal junkie. I have a perfectly good, useful and quite fetching french press at home, but I can’t stop straying from her (french presses, like boats, are always a ‘she’).

This is a free country, Starbucks! A free country! This is America! Where Rocky V was considered by someone to be an acceptable movie, where we hold “elections” and “people” “vote” on the “issues” and if I want to take a poo on the subway in public, then I can take a poo on the subway in public. I know I can do that because I have witnessed it. I have witnessed this happen in front of my very own eyes. That is real America, Starbucks. It doesn’t get any realer.

What I’m saying is I have choices, yet I succumb to the wiley suburban crack that you peddle. I will actually spend $4 on a plain black iced coffee- essentially 2 forms of water and grinds. Making it rain with a stack of hundreds over a fishtank would be an equally wise fiscal decision.

I will try in earnest to leave and never return. I will “save my money!” and “give up Starbucks for lent, in JESUS’ NAME” (Although I believe Jesus would prefer to have nothing to do with this). The devil’s brew; that is the alt. name for your “Blonde Roast.”

Would it be possible to create a bartering system… just between the two of us? I will trade you hand crocheted pot holders made with glittery yarn in exchange for white chocolate mochas on demand. I don’t yet know how to crochet per se, but I assure you I can and will learn anything given the proper motivation. I will save $5 minus the cost of yarn and I wont even bill you for the inevitable carpal tunnel surgery after all that caffeinated crocheting. Maybe I’ll have children to have them crochet for me like a mini Starbucks bartering sweatshop.

I theorize on why I return each day…

Do you make me more popular? Probably. What will I Instagram if not a white paper cup with my name on it? What else could I possibly do to get 28 likes on one photo? Become pope?

You provide great gifts for family and friends that I don’t know very well — yet have, by some unfortunate series of events, found myself obligated to spend money on. Are you a human? Great. Enjoy this Starbucks gift card.

Perhaps I like that everyone knows my name when I arrive. They say “Hi Jessica!” or sometimes just “Hello” (but I can see the recognition in their eyes) and then they prepare my Venti Extra Foam Quad Shot Skinny Caramel Macchiato in some amount of time. Sometimes a long time, sometimes a short time, sometimes they forget me altogether. The excitement keeps my life spicy. Will I make my train? Will I not? Who knows.

What I appreciate about you most is that you will follow me to the ends of the earth. I’m going to South Africa this summer. Tell me Starbucks, have you established a hut so my addiction can remain uninterrupted?

AND THE CAKE POPS. The perfect small POP of cake. How are they so moist and perfectly spherical? I have attempted to recreate these and it looked like I sprinkled sugar on a dilapidated prune and then stuck it on a stick.

Then there are the stars. I want them. Gotta catch ’em all. I will spend handfuls of money for one free drink. You have manipulated me, like a small sticky fingered pre-school child… and speaking of sticky fingers, watch what you’re doing with that caramel “Evan.” Caramel goes on the inside of the cup. Let’s not get flamboyant.

In closing, you’re the worst, but I love you. I love to hate you, and I hate to love you.

I’m so confused.


–“Jessica” “Jess” “Jesica” “Jessi” “Jessy” “Jill” “Hess”

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