The greatest oat milk latte ever
fun with baristas
Most days I drink shitty coffee. This is a choice. Since I started working from home, where you’re responsible for your own office supplies and snacks, I’ve tried several methods for my morning coffee. The French press. A pour-over. A Moka Pot. The old-fashioned basic-as-shit Mr. Coffee. In theory, any of these methods could be my go-to. In practice, there are problems. But as Taylor Swift says, I’m the problem, it’s me.
My problem is consistency, or rather, a lack of it. Too much coffee one morning, too little water the next. Making coffee isn’t rocket science, but I still fuck it up every damn day.
Which brings me to K-cups. They’re lousy from an environmental perspective. They’re also an abomination, if you’re a coffee aficionado. But K-cups are consistent. You fill the machine with water, pop in a pod, press a few buttons, and that’s it. The coffee is mediocre, but it’s consistently mediocre.
When I want good coffee, I leave the house. The closest option is Starbucks. Some people love their coffee, others say it’s too bitter. But I don’t think of Starbucks as a coffee company. They’re a guilt-free milkshake provider. The milkshakes are listed on the menu under “Frappuccino Blended Beverages.” Frappuccino is code for milkshake. If you order a milkshake, you’re having dessert. But if you order a Frappuccino, you’re drinking a blended beverage, which means you can dishonestly say to your doctor, trainer, or spouse, “I don’t drink milkshakes.” A lot of marketing firepower went into creating the Frappuccino euphemism. As a bullshit artist, I appreciate the effort. But as a ride-or-die milkshake fan, I’m offended. Fuck Frappuccinos. Fuck them in their fake-ass Venti cups.
But this is about coffee, not milkshakes. If I want a good coffee, I drive past Starbucks and head for a local coffee shop. Sometimes I get a drip coffee, sometimes I get a latte. If I’m lucky, I also get a story—on the house.
The other day, I went to a funky coffee shop called Barclays. It shares a strip mall with a dozen other businesses, including a nail salon, an IHOP, a career college, an all you can eat sushi joint, and a tuxedo rental shop called Friar Tux. As far as I can tell, Barclays will hire anyone as long as they know how to make coffee and they’re a bona fide wackadoo.
I ordered an oat milk latte. The wackadoo cashier rang me up, then passed along my order to the wackadoo barista.
“This man wants the greatest oat milk latte of all time,” the cashier said.
“Sheesh, no pressure,” the barista said. “One minute I’m minding my own beeswax, the next minute I’m in the barista Olympics.”
“No pressure from me,” I said. “I’d like a good oat milk latte, but honestly, I just want you to do your best.”
“You heard the man,” the cashier said, “go for the gold!”
“Don’t mind him,” the barista said. “He lives in a fantasy world where every order has super high stakes. If it’s not a gold medal coffee, it’s a supernatural tea that can stop the zombie apocalypse, or an iced matcha latte that can win a James Beard award.”
“I have high standards, and I hate zombies,” the cashier said.
“You’re also delusional,” the barista said.
“Isn’t everyone a little delusional?” I asked. “I keep thinking everything is going to work out, but I’m also a history buff, so I know that optimism is part of the human condition, even if history teaches us that it’s basically an ongoing shit show.”
“That’s not delusional, that’s fact,” the cashier replied. “I’m delusional. Example: you’re wearing a Big Lebowski t-shirt, but maybe you’re not. Maybe you’re actually wearing a leather biker jacket, or a unitard. See what I mean?”
“Maybe the Big Lebowski t-shirt is an illusion. Maybe I’m wearing a gorilla suit and it just appears as a t-shirt.”
“Maybe you’re not even really here,” the cashier countered. “Maybe you and your oat milk latte exist inside my madness.”
“Maybe your madness exists inside a computer simulation. Or maybe you just need to stop watching The Matrix so much and cut back on the hallucinogens.”
“Bingo!” the barista said, placing my oat milk latte on the counter.
“I hear those words,” the cashier said, “but all I see is a talking gorilla drinking the greatest oat milk latte of all time.”
I got my best-seller badge back!
Big news for Situation Normal, and I couldn’t have done it without some generous situation normies. A very big thank you goes out to
, , , Gerald L, and ! The five of you put Situation Normal over the top. I’m sending each of you good vibes. I’m also sharing the notes from those who were kind enough to give me permission to do so.
This means bagels!
To celebrate the return of my best-seller badge, I’m going to write about Courage Bagels, a Los Angeles establishment that has the courage—Chutzpah!—to ask patrons to stand in line for an hour or more to get their bagels. Look for that post next Sunday.
Stick around and chat!
I ask, you answer
Why is rocket science the go-to shorthand for a really difficult job, when everyone knows that the hardest working professionals in the game are teachers?
Is Starbucks your milkshake provider, or do you value truth in desserts?
Can you think of a better name for a tuxedo shop than Friar Tux?
Since weirdo has become political (at least in the U.S.), I went with wackadoo. Is wackadoo the new weirdo?
Am I monster for using K-cups?
I don’t even drink coffee and I want to go to that coffee shop for the high quality banter!
1. Agreed. "Trying to get through to middle schoolers" is way harder than making rockets go zoom.
2. I fall prey to the Starbucks BRILLIANT marketing scheme to just plain EXIST at the exit point of Target. Diabolical. It's the only time I drink Starbucks. When I'm at Target. And as a mother of soon-to-be-unreachable middle schoolers, I'm at Target ALOT. I always get whatever seasonal "sweet cream cold brew" jazz they have on the sandwich board display walking in. They put it in my brain, and I don't stop thinking about it until I'm drinking it. And then I'm thinking ... this isn't coffee ... but it's fucking delicious. At home, I drink old school drip coffee from a 4-cup Mr. Coffee-style device. HOWEVER, I buy GOOD coffee. From this free-trade outfit in Wisconsin. My brother got me a gift card once and I never looked back. Meanwhile, my husband buys and drinks Maxwell House, because he wants our kids to have the option of going to college someday. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
3. No. That is tops. I drove by a dog grooming shop called "Groomingdales" the other day. I'm old, so I got the reference. My husband and I once riffed in the car for twenty minutes about businesses with names that sounded like they may or may not be actual businesses. Like "Space For Rent" (intergalactic real estate) or "Under New Management" (speakeasy or brothel).
4. I use wackadoo. I'm also partial to nutjob.
5. I mean ... it's not like you're marooning shopping carts on parking lot medians ... but still ... 🤔
6. BAGELS!!!