The Den of Sin
Starbucks pastries get me every single time.
I’d like this think it’s not my fault. After all – I’m pretty convinced that nearly anything can look divine on a white pedestal behind a clean glass case. Mere humans are helpless against its mysterious power. But I’ve done this too many times. I should know by now.
I walk into Starbucks chanting to myself inside my head “Venti Soy No Whip Mocha. Venti Soy No Whip Mocha.” If I don’t focus on this phrase intently, I will inevitably blurt out something ridiculous when the barista confronts me. Like “piggly wiggly” or “boobface.” The pressure of high-speed food service takes a very serious toll on me.
Halfway into my inner Gregorian chant, it happens: my eyes lock with the pastry case. Cinnamon scones with more calories than a quarter pounder, muffins the size of my face, and danishes that put waddle on my arms with a mere glance. Every single time I fall for it. And every single time I throw it away after two bites. Because Starbucks pastries are just big doughy wads of disappointment. They parade themselves like beautiful sinful indulgences, but deep down they’re empty, tasteless soul-crushers.
I thought I had a brilliant solution to this the other day. I was going to write Starbucks and tell them to outsource their pastry cases to local bakeries. Local bakers get more business, Starbucks streamlines its cost of goods sold, and Starbucks customers everywhere can pick from the case without fear.
But then I stumbled upon this site and read that John Moore, who was a corporate marketing manager at Starbucks in 2002 and now writes the Brand Autopsy blog says, “If taken solely as a retailer of pastries, it would be the largest in the U.S.”
Apparently I’m the only one who’s unimpressed.
You know what? I don’t even like coffee. I drink coffee when I’m faced with the reality of my head hitting the keyboard while I’m at work. I drink coffee because sometimes it’s the only thing that will kill the images of oversized plush surfaces inside my brain as I long for the sweet nectar of sleep. I drink coffee only out of a very deep and very sad reality that the night before, I thought it was a better idea to watch 18 episodes of Arrested Development than to go to bed like a responsible adult.
And so I will have to say goodbye to Starbucks. I can no longer bear the weight of the disappointing pastry case. And unless all of America is under the same trance as I that accounts for my constant patronage of their sweets and treats, it appears that my suggestion for outsourcing to local bakeries is unnecessary.
I have nothing to offer you, Starbucks, and I can see clearly enough now to know that you have nothing to offer me. This is clearly an emotionally abusive relationship and I will no longer take part in it.
Here’s to 5 Hour Energy: Bottoms up. ♣
P.S. Thanks so much for your support through Freshly Pressed, guys – I feel all your warm squishy love. Hiya to my new subscribers – thanks for checking me out. Now the pressure to post every day is seriously, seriously on.
The Jackie Blog 