I decided in the gym this morning that I had to get new workout shoes. My cheap track shoes were already falling apart and a good two seconds from embarrassing.
I went to DSW and snagged some Adidas running shoes for around $40.
And while I was in my savings bliss, I decided to go to Payless. Payless has recently stepped its game up. I bought a pair of plaid slips for $15. Vöt.
The shoe deals put me in a good mood, so I decided to take the trek to The Falls to get my phone fixed. The Sprint store was as awkward as I expected to be. The sales reps (rather rudely) ignored the bloated and flushed man from the Redlands who roamed about looking mighty confused.
Bored customers milled about everywhere waiting for their phone repairs. Everyone looked at me like I was the new guy walking in the bar on a slow night.
Redlands roamed the store for about fifteen minutes before he was told “to get service you need to be on the wait list.” He left a few minutes later, cursing.
The Sprint repairman saw my phone and said, “Yeah …uh, no.” After he finished laughing, he asked how I managed to do so much damage.
I told him about my skateboarding mishap. He laughed some more and told me to come back in 40 minutes but made no promises.
I went to The Falls mall across the street, and, to my horror, realized that there was no book store in the mall, or the entire area. How does this happen? Something is horribly wrong down there.
So I ended up at the mall’s Starbucks, which may be the worst designed Starbuck ever.
Seriously. In all of history.
Design Fail: The store is long and narrow. There is less than three feet space between the store window and the counter. The door, of course, is in the middle of this awkward space and opens immediately to the cash register.
If there are multiple customers, the line veers off to the side so you have to squeeze past people to get in the end of the line. The beverage area is equally claustrophobic and people picking up beverages end up trapped in the corner by the people waiting for their drinks.
You have to work your way back through the line (like the a moviegoer with a bladder problem) to get out of the store.
The point is, it’s an awkward, crowded space.
So of course the loud, dopey lady in front of me causes scene. She’s accompanied by an overlarge bearded guy in with ratty tennis shoes who looks like he likes anime and vintage Pacman.
Dopey lady’s Starbucks employee card doesn’t work. She tells the cashier that she “HASN’T BEEN ON THE SCHEDULE FOR A FEW WEEKS!”
She’s loud and has the lispy tone of someone with a learning disorder. Everyone in the line exchanges the glance that acknowledges someone is violating crowded space etiquette.
If you’re in a small, crowded shop – you do not 1) hold up the line, and 2) fail to regulate the level of your voice.
We all know this.
This exchange goes on for a while. The manager finally comes and tells dopey lady that her employee ID isn’t valid and that she should check with her Starbucks to see if she’s still employed.
The drink maker, who hasn’t been paying attention calls her drink, and then screams, “DOES ANYONE HAVE A CINNAMON DOLCE LATTE?” as if the store is more than 20 feet long.
The manager at the register shouts back (even though they are about 3 feet apart) “Yes, she’s still at the register!”
The man behind me laughs.
Dopey lady doesn’t get it, but she eventually pays.
So dopey lady and overly large guy are completely in the way when I get my drink. They are both hunched over the sugars and napkins and so consumed with fixing their drinks that they don’t care about the rest of us waiting.
I was mesmerized how fervently the were stirring their drinks. They were working their drinks as if they were beating eggs.
Like, they looked intent and excited to be stirring their drinks. They kept adding a little milk, tasting, adding sugar, tasting, and so forth… it was intense and painful to watch.
So I exchange smirks with a blond middle-aged woman (who was with laughing man) when SMACK-SPLASH, dopey lady spills her latte. She screams out, “OH NO!” and shuffles to the finished-drink-stand while flailing her arms,“Excuse me! EXCUUUSE ME! I SPILLED A DRINK! Can I have another?”
The sixteen year old behind the counter rolls her eyes and fixes another latte. I reach over the foamy latte muddle, get my two packets of Splenda (that I had been waiting five minutes for now), and left the starbucks.
As I was squeezing out of the door I heard laughing man go at it again.
Hmmf.
I eventually got my phone back. They fixed it. No charge. Holler at warranties.
