MOVarazzi

Saturday, January 28, 2012

643. Do You Like Syrup?

So I walked into Starbucks like I normally do and ordered my usual tall, extra-hot latte. “Do you want syrup in that?” asked the starista helpfully. I had not had my coffee yet (duh) so my mind was grabbing at words like maple, blueberry, or high-fructose corn. Before I had a chance to respond, she was pointing behind me to a Do-It-Yourself Syrup Bar. “We moved all the syrups over to that side, so you can help yourself now,” she explained, “Check it out. There are also a few new ones you may not have tried.”

I had never seen anything so fancy, not even on the transatlantic cruise my grandmother took me on that one time. There were a dozen tall bottles of exotic syrups standing at attention, like syrup soldiers ready for battle.

I picked up my latte off the counter and walked over to see the syrups. Imagine my surprise when I read the name on the first one: Tall. That’s my older son’s name! Why would a syrup be labeled “Tall”? Out of loyalty to my son, I put a drip of the flavor in my coffee and sipped it cautiously. Nothing. It tasted like nothing. I turned back toward the direction of the starista to tell her something was wrong with this syrup when I hit my head on the light fixture. I didn’t remember it being that low. Or the starista being that short.

“Excuse me, miss? Is this one, Tall, supposed to taste like anything? Because it doesn’t.” I made a face, the type of grimace when the mailman hands you your mail and it’s all bills and junk mail.

“Oh, it doesn’t really taste like anything. But it did work.” She smiled up at me. “Go ahead and try ‘Really Smart.’ That’s my favorite.”

I went back over to look for Really Smart, but I couldn’t find it. Maybe some other customer had taken it to their table. I scanned the names of the other ones. Rich. Why not?

I poured a bit into the coffee and took another swig. I felt like Alice in Coffeeland, anxious for what would happen next.

“I think you dropped this,” said a man as he handed me a crisp $100 bill.

“No, that’s not mine,” I said.

The starista appeared behind me. “Yes it is,” she said firmly as she handed me a $50 bill as well. “So is this one.”

Rich was good. I liked Rich. It was my favorite so far.

“I’ve tried two syrups already,” I told the starista conspiratorially, “but is there a limit? Can I try more?”

The starista wiped down the front side of the baked goods case with a wet cloth. “You can try them all, there’s no limit.”

I noticed one of the syrups was called Frantic. I picked it up and examined the bright orange label on the bottle. Who would want to drink that? Frantic was like the lima beans of the syrup world, completely unnecessary and destined to be thrown away in a napkin under the table or fed to the dog when no one was looking. A woman pushed past me as I was setting Frantic back down.

“Do they have any more Model?” she asked in a tone that made me think she had tried the syrup I just put back. “My sister recommended that one.” She pointed to her sister across the leather chairs and small wooden café tables up near the front window. I didn’t see her sister, but I did see Heidi Klum.

The woman found the bottle, but then clumsily knocked it on the floor. The bottle broke and an iridescent blue liquid went everywhere. “Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no,” said the woman, clearly upset, “I really wanted to try it.”

A different starista appeared, mop in hand. “I kept telling corporate that the syrups shouldn’t be out here, that only the staristas should pour them, but no,” he mumbled under his breath.

I hovered nearby waiting for him to finish mopping. I wanted to inspect the other choices. He finished quickly and I picked up various bottles and set them down again. I liked Tall, I liked Rich, and Model seemed to work fairly well. Frantic was a waste of a bottle. Famous beckoned, as did Gainfully Employed. Remember Everything made me shudder. Travel sounded appealing, as did Real Love. I considered Luck, but it didn't specify if it was Bad or Good.  What else did I want to try?

Before I could think about it too much longer, the woman who had spilled Model pushed past me, grabbed the sole bottle of Happiness, and stormed off. “If they won’t give me Model, I’ll just take Happiness away so no one else can have it,” I heard her say.

It didn’t bother me because at that precise moment I located the one special bottle everyone seeks when they walk into Starbucks in the first place:  Inner Peace.

MOV

16 comments:

  1. Ahhhh! I love it! I guess I should go down to the kitchen and look for sanity in the maple syrup bottle. I do have some high end kitchen store pancake mix...maybe it's in there!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Andrea,
      Let me know if you find the sanity (and how much it costs). The famous joke when I worked for the airlines: A flight was in the boarding process when a flight attendant misplaced something crucial. She was on her hands and knees looking for whatever it was on the floor of the first class closet. The pilot asked her what she was doing, to which she replied deadpan, "I'm looking for the glamour."

      Delete
  2. My Starbucks has hazelnut, which I really like, but your choices sound much better. Loved this.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. oh, boring old hazelnut. I think we have an experimental Starbucks, so they run all the tests on us.

      glad you loved it! :) means a lot coming from a gifted writer like you!

      Delete
  3. I've been putting "Jar of sanity" on the shopping list for ages, but my husband does the grocery shopping and can never find it; I'll have to see if my Starbucks has any.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. ah, rookie mistake. Only sold in bottles, not jars. looks suspiciously like a Bailey's bottle (can I hear an "aye aye" from Marianne?!).

      Delete
  4. Wow, that was brilliant. Loved the concept. (I say, trying to sound all artsy but failing dismally)

    Now if only they did bottles of 'willpower', then I could finally fit back into my jeans...and skirts...maybe my shirts...and...well you get the point.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, lily!

      (and so sorry to be the one to tell you this, but Willpower was discontinued because it turned out to be defective.........)

      Delete
  5. I thoroughly enjoyed this! (And want some of that 'willpower' syrup)

    ReplyDelete
  6. Cooool...I wanna go Starbucks! I wanna go Starbucks etc etc

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Julie, you and I can go together. We'll order the syrup called Funny. (oops, I think you and I already drank all of that one!)

      :)
      MOV

      Delete
  7. O.....kay. I thought this was going to be about Hershey's in the squirt bottle and canned whipped cream.

    ReplyDelete
  8. starbucks is my favorite. maybe they have a bottle of 'talent' for me.

    <3 the read. always.

    xoxo

    t

    ReplyDelete
  9. Hmmm, I think I need to visit your Starbucks. I've been looking for my bottle of wisdom for quite some time. Maybe they have it? Can I put it in a chai latte?

    ReplyDelete

When you write a comment, it makes me feel like I won the lottery or at the very least like I ate an ice-cream sundae. (This has nothing to do with the fact that I did just eat an ice-cream sundae.)