Starbucks Blonde, Breaking the Rules

This is an ordinary Starbucks coffee cup. Actually, it’s obvious that this one isn’t ordinary. It’s part of the advertising campaign for Starbucks’ new blonde espresso. As a late-in-life blonde myself, I wonder if I should take offense at the play on words that Starbucks is using in the Starbucks Blonde Espresso campaign. Still, I was drawn to the poster for Starbucks’ first new espresso in 40 years blah blah press release language,  and I asked the barista what made the blonde so blonde. To his credit, he didn’t make a stupid blonde joke. He explained to me that the new blonde is simply a different blend of espresso roasts. Something about Latin and South American versus Latin and African. That did not make me want to order the blonde.

So I ordered a lightly sweet chai latte. Tall.

It might surprise you to know that this was an adventurous choice for me. I don’t drink coffee at night, so I needed an alternative. My usual choice, if I  find myself at a coffee shop at night, is a mint tea. But my inquiry about the blonde espresso made me feel a little bit risky. Restless. Wondering if I should order something unusual for me. The “lightly sweet” on the board drew my eye. And so it was KTP out of the box going crazy with the chai tea latte. Something I had never ordered before.

Looking at the above cup, regular Starbucks patrons know better than to assume that there is coffee inside. It could be hot chocolate, or a latte, or espresso, or tea. I am not a regular Starbucks patron, so when I see somebody with a Starbucks cup, I assume that there is coffee inside. With the chai tea latte, I surprised myself.

It’s a plain white Starbucks cup with a yellow cardboard zarf. When you take off the lid, you see foam. Again, could be a latte. The cup is round the cap is white. Looks like a plain old Starbucks drink.

It feels hot like all Starbucks drinks…Starbucks drinks that are supposed to be hot anyway. When I picked it up it warmed my cold hands. I had just taken a walk. It wasn’t a long walk, only 2400 steps, don’t ask me how that measures in miles but I know it only took me about 15 minutes. So maybe not even a whole mile. I had just dropped my son at his religious class and I only had an hour to kill before I came back to pick him up. A short walk, visit to Starbucks and a few precious moments alone with my manuscript, that was what I thought. It’s a chilly night in Southern California and I’m wearing only a sweatshirt and a T-shirt underneath it, no coat no gloves. My hands are cold.

I can feel the warmth of the chai tea latte through the cup which is dry and papery and the cardboard sleeve with the word blonde on it protects my hands from being burned. The liquid is not hot enough to burn my tongue though so when I sip it, it is pleasurably warm. And then I finally taste it. This chai tea latte, lightly sweet, it’s too sweet for me. The first few sips are OK, even to my liking. But after five or six of them, I begin to detect a spiciness to this blend that is not at all as I was expecting.

I tell myself to accept it, embrace it, after all this is my reward for being so bold as to order something new. But would it also be bold to admit that I don’t like it? To not be the nice girl for once? To reject something that does not please me? I have run out of time anyway, I’ve got to go pick up my son. I have no intention of continuing to drink the chai tea latte in the car. (No matter what I do the smell of Starbucks will be upon my body anyway because I spent more than 10 minutes in this place.) Even if I don’t bring the chai tea latte into the car nothing will prevent my car from smelling like Starbucks. Still, I don’t want to bring this chai latte to the car. I go back to the barista and offer it to him. “I’m not going to finish this,”  I say. “ I didn’t want to just dump all this liquid in the garbage.” I don’t say “I don’t like this,” because that would be rude.

Quite by accident, I smear lightly sweet chai latte foam all over the counter. So as I apologize for my undrunk drink, I make a mess. But I don’t even feel bad. And that’s something new.