Whenever I walk into Starbucks, I stand back from the counter, fold my arms, and peruse the menu for a couple minutes. I look over everything they have to offer – plenty of options, limitless combinations. Drip. Espresso. Latte. Cappuccino. Frappuccino. Tea. Hot. Cold. Decaf. Caffeinated. Super-caffeinated. Flavored syrups. Then they have those weird drinks, the ones that I know I won’t like but am tempted to order anyway, just to say I’ve tried it. Then, when the barista asks if I’ve been helped, I step up to the register and ask for the same thing I get every time, a medium cup of black coffee.
Story of my life.
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