I Like My Coffee Black (With A Wee Straw)

If I were to calculate the amount of money I've spent in Starbucks over the years, I'd weep. I'd weep for the corporate stooge I'd become, hating myself for the meth-like grip the evil empire had over me. I used to go in every day when I was at college. In fact, we'd quite often be late just to ensure we got our daily fix. I'm not entirely sure anyone cared. You can't be a dark, brooding art student without coffee. And a copy of The Catcher in the Rye that you don't actually read.

I wasn't aware that the South Park goth kids were supposed to be some sort of ironic piss take. In fact I applauded them for creating characters I could actually relate to. Was my face red!

 

Anyway. Starbucks and I have enjoyed a healthy fruitful relationship. We both have a laissez faire approach to paying the Government. They've now decided that a multinational corporation needs to be seen as 'friendly', and 'approachable', and have some kind of human connection. After all, shops are closing every day. People need somewhere familiar. Somewhere they can forget about their financial woes while paying as much for a single coffee as they would for a jar. In order to do so, they've come up with the idea of taking names. Now, my name is apparently quite easy to get wrong. All of it. I never order taxis under my own name, there's just no point. So when I'm shouting it over a counter, surrounded by noisy buzzin' bean junkies, the results are always going to be... umm... mixed at best...

 

This was the first attempt. Before now, I just thought they were selective with who they asked. The last time I'd went into Starbucks, the girl in front of me had been asked her name. She was very classically pretty, like she'd waltzed out of American Apparel. She looked like she would smell nice, and her hair was swooshy. By comparison, I didn't get asked for my name. I wasn't wearing eyeliner and I'd had a long day at uni. The girl behind me didn't get asked for her name either. She looked like Hatchet Face from Cry Baby.

 This is the most common misspelling/mispronunciation of my name. For years all I got was, "is your name Adrian 'cause yer maw's pure intae Rocky?". In protest I didn't watch Rocky until I was about 18; old enough to be over the embarrassment and to also know that no, I was not named after Rocky's girlfriend. I mean I'm sure my folks liked the film, but naming your child after a supporting character is a pretty bold statement. An opinion my future son, Wayne Gale Magneto Peter Venkman Calgie, will undoubtedly share.

 

 I'm embarrassed to admit that the only time my name has ever been spelled correctly was on a non-black coffee related product. I'd smelled some Jack Daniel's in someone else's glass the night before, and it had left me feeling a bit worse for wear. I couldn't face my usual black tar, and I wanted something sweet that was also non-food based. Have you ever ordered a Frappucino? It's impossible to do so without mentally giving yourself the 'wanker' gesture. And also shouting 'wanker!' at yourself, in your own head. Damned if it was tasty though, but next time I might give a fake name. Just so, y'know, if said cup is found it can't be traced back to me. I've got a reputation to maintain.

 

And we're back. I've never had a correct spelling of my name since that first time. Usually I just stop being a wanker and say 'Ada'. It's easier. It's three letters. Sometimes I get 'Ava', but you know what, I wouldn't mind if that was my name, so that's OK too. Most times I remember I actually have none of the money I did at college and bypass it. However, yesterday I needed some perking up after facing town on payday Friday. That's a tough shift, I'd earned it. The one thing I do like about my name is that no one else has it. OR SO I THOUGHT. The guy in front of me had been sent on the office coffee run. He was getting BAGS full of coffee based goodness. He was rhyming off the names for everyone's drink. I was pretty agitated as he was taking FOREVER, and my caffeine supplies were running low. My ears perked up when I suddenly heard him ask for a "mocha, that's for Ada, A-D-A". I was too embarrassed to be seen having the same name as someone who'd drink a mocha. I didn't want to be associated with this impostor and her lack of commitment to one thing. Is it hot chocolate? Is it coffee? At least a Frappucino is self-consciously flamboyant, like a peacock. It doesn't try and masquerade itself as a legitimate coffee option. Boo you, mocha, and boo you Fake Ada for tarnishing the reputation I only just got away with after the Frappucino incident.