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When I managed a Starbucks five years ago, I was completely impressed with their extensive training program. That’s why I was not surprised to hear that all the corporate stores closed for three hours yesterday in order to have a mini-boot camp with their partners. Not only did the shut-down cost the company millions of dollars, it was an admission, of sorts, that they have lost that lovin’ feeling when it comes to providing a customer an excellent coffee experience.

The last time I visited my old store I ordered a Triple Venti, Non-Fat, Extra Hot White Chocolate Mocha and it set me back almost as much as it cost me in gas to get there. I placed my order at the drive-thru rather than go into the store because, when I pull open those doors, the little voice in my head always chants “Must buy all cute coffee cups” but $18 cute coffee cups give Darren full body seizures.

As I was waiting in my vehicle, I found myself going through the mental checklist of Starbucks standards, some of which I remember more easily than my childrens’ birthdates:

Greeting-”Hi! Welcome to Starbucks!”
Small Talk-”How are you today?”
Order Request-”What can we make for you today?”
Repeat Order-”So that will be a Triple Venti, Non-fat, Extra Hot White Chocolate Mocha?”
Give Total
Confirm- “Okay! We’ll get started on your drink. See you at the window!!”

The goal is a three minute wait time in the drive-thru, fairly unreasonable to the person working the bar, but whatever. Everyone needs high goals and ambitions.

I pulled up to the menu and waited for the greeting. And waited. And waited…long enough for me to put the motor in reverse and drive up again, thinking that maybe I didn’t trip the sensor the first time. This time did the trick.

“I’m sorry. I was changing batteries in my headset. What can I get for you?”

“No problem. I’d like a Triple Venti, Non-Fat, Extra Hot White Chocolate Mocha please.” I said slowly.

It sounds like a pretentious drink. I know. What I’m really asking for a a large, white chocolate mocha with extra caffeine, non-fat milk and heated to a temperature that won’t feel cold by the time I turn on my blinker.

“Okay” she said. “That’s a White Chocolate Mocha. Anything else?”

“That was a Triple Venti, Non-Fat, Extra Hot White Chocolate Mocha.” I repeated.

“Did you want that with 2% or Whole?”

“Actually, can I get it with non-fat milk?”

“Sure! So I’ve got a Venti, Non-fat White Mocha. Anything else?”

“Uh. Nope. That will do it.”

At this point I would have felt like a complete snob to correct her again, and since she was all happy about having new batteries in her headset, I didn’t want to ruin the moment for her. I’m familiar with the joy one experiences with a new battery. So I pulled up to the window, grabbed cash from my purse and rolled down my window to pay.

But she wasn’t there.

I waited some more and hummed a few stanzas of the “Safety Dance” while glancing inside at the small line of people waiting for their drinks to be called. After several more minutes I reminded myself that Jesus is patient and I would just consider sitting patiently in drive-thru as a sort of tithing of my time. Maybe she got a phone call saying that her husband ran over their elderly cat. Or she was newly pregnant and had to barf between the 5 seconds it took me to drive from the menu to the window. Or maybe she’s on break, sitting at my old desk, thumbing through the latest People magazine.

By now the barista had placed my drink on the counter and returned to making other drinks. I glanced in the mirror and noticed a line up of cars behind me. This was getting embarrassing. The clock on my dashboard told me eleven minutes had passed since I first pulled up to order. Unless Jesus ever thought in His head “You’ve got to be f’ing kidding me!” I failed in my attempt to be Christ-like.

Just then the window opened.

“That will be $5.07 please.”

No explanation. No apology.

I handed her the cash.

“Does it always take this long at drive-thru?”

“That depends” she said. “We give preference to the customers who come inside.”

You’ve GOT to be F’ING KIDDING ME! Starbucks was punishing me for resisting the temptation to give Darren a seizure!

“Here’s your Venti White Mocha.”

“Is it non-fat?”

“Um…yeah. That’s what the cup says.”

“Okay.”

I drove away mad. Really mad. So mad that I wanted to throw my drink out the window in an absurd protest against the universe. Instead, I picked it up and took a sip, hoping it was all worth the wait.

It was a lukewarm hazelnut latte. With whole milk.

Good idea closing down for training, Howard Schultz. Might want to take a closer look at store #2621.

Cute cups. Ugly service.