Recently I was waiting in line at Starbucks behind a couple holding hands and whispering playfully to one another. The young man stepped up to the counter to place their order while his partner took their leather book bags and found a seat on one of the metal stools near the window.
Then she bellowed the order in a singsong voice, to another employee standing only four feet behind her waiting to make the drink, “Grande cappuccino over i-ice!”
He shot an embarrassed glance at his girlfriend. She smiled sheepishly, sharing his shame. “Finally,” he added with determination, “I’ll have one of these …grande cookies.” He threw his shoulders back, relieved that he had finally mastered this game.
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A Starbucks barista is trained to translate all misphrased requests into proper corporate form. The official drink name is repeated frequently as a means of instruction, often in the form of a question: “Do you mean ‘iced grande skim latte?’” You must defer to their authority over the language if you want your drink. (“Yes, I said iced coffee, but I meant iced grande skim latte.”)
At these fast-food joints, the name games are understood by both customer and employee to be a contrivance. The waitstaff gets a good laugh at your expense, and you’re compensated for your momentary humiliation with a price cut.
In the face of such ambiguity the process broke down. The barista tried to explain the nuances involved in icing down a cup of coffee. But the woman wasn’t interested in having her sentence deconstructed. She merely repeated her initial request and looked at her watch. People waiting peered angrily toward the front of the line.
