The Sweet Release of Death

Celine Dion, Nickelback, Jerry Springer, Starbucks

The Cell Phone Sandwich

04/01/2010 07:28 AM Filed in:Life on the Outside

They say misery loves company. But does it really need a double tall latte’ also? It’s Monday. Your weekend flew by way too quick and you summoned the courage to roll out of bed and get on with the grind of 8 hours of devalued, underpaid time drain you call a job. You have a few moments to stop off at one of the 6 local Starbucks to burn the $4.50 lounging in your pocket and kick-start the day. As you park the car you mutter to yourself; please don’t let there be a line... Please don’t let there be a line... As you saunter up to the door, the silhouette of four other schmucks radiates through the smoked glass making your toes curl and your teeth clinch. Shit! A line! Its The Dreaded Line.

With the line comes a syndrome so sinister and evil that a majority of news agencies refuse to report it’s grasp on America’s major chain coffee outlets. I will refuse to succumb to their chokehold and tell you their secret here. With the line comes... The Lister. Yes, when you only have ten minutes, The Lister is the person that will see to it you spend twenty minutes waiting for your one cup of Joe. The Lister raises your blood pressure, which sucks because you didn’t want the Lister to do that, you wanted the coffee to do it. The Lister gives you thoughts of all out thermonuclear warfare to unfold at that precise moment to rid yourself (and the other poor bastards around you) the pain of waiting for 15 variations of coffee and pastry. The Lister is the point-man for the Invisible Lazy Bastard Brigade. You know who you are. The group of co-workers that are just waiting for someone to mention their going for coffee so they can get their order in and keep working. God forbid these fuckers leave the house an extra twenty minutes early. But I digress. The Lister will make you spin on your heels and turn for the door without your fix just by hearing: “Hi! I have a list I need a double tall vanilla latte and a blueberry scone and a short, one pump...” Poof you’re gone!

But a majority of the time, you suffer through cause Starbuck’s has got you hooked. You need your fix. Now the Lister is about as bad as a Lindsay Lohan movie but there is another group within the line that is more vile and repulsive than the Lister and no it’s not Nickelback. It starts out when you take your spot in the line. You’re say... fourth in line, The Lister is at the head draining your life away, and just behind him is a plump gal with “Pink” appliquéd on the ass of her sweatpants, that’s ordered her drink but is waiting for her quiche carmel ham sandwich, and there in front you stands The Exec. Dressed to the nines and constantly checking his watch but wait. What’s this? Oh great! The Exec has his cell phone firmly entrenched into his left ear. You take this in and start wondering to yourself “ What did I ever do to deserve this?” The Exec smells of too much cologne and the constant bobbing of his head and the repeated : yeah... Uh huh. Yeah . yeah. well I don’t... yeah. Is starting to make you wonder why you even drink coffee. By this time, The Lister is almost done, the plump gal has got her sandwich, and you think OK. I’m almost out of here. Just a couple of more minutes longer. It’s at this precise moment that fate throws another curve, because fate is a CY Young award winner and it’s dead on every time.

Cue The Loaf. The Loaf is the reason Jerry Springer is on this earth. Jerry shows us in his trailer park kind of way, the essence of The Loaf. The Loaf is that uneducated, overweight, poorly dressed, obnoxious twat that seems to pop up in the damnedest places. Now she is behind you. That’s right I said she, because 9 times out of 10 it’s a she. Sorry. Deal with it ladies. Well, things now just got officially out of hand because The Loaf has a cell phone too and she is making everyone aware that she can put words together and form incomplete sentences and bark them into her Motorola. Now you feel the walls closing in, you clinch your car keys in your hand as you curl it into a fist; sweat starts beading up on the back of your neck. The chatter of yeahs from The Exec coupled with the bobbing of his head. His bald spot that resembles a monkeys ass, bouncing to the rhythm of yeahs and uh huhs. At this point The Loaf’s meanderings join together with The Exec’s creating a cacophony of verbal in-breeding worthy of a Jeff Foxworthy seal of approval. You start thinking of other Starbucks to go to, but this one is your favorite. Why should you change? The Loaf’s conversation floods over you “ yeah well we played x-box all day then we went to his cousin’s house...”

It’s then that you start thinking of the rogue asteroids NASA has been talking about that are on a collision course for earth, because nuclear bombs just won’t do the trick. The planet must be completely annihilated. To say you feel overwhelmed with contempt is putting it lightly. You find yourself starting to mumble and whispering “Why god? Why?” Followed by “Christ almighty! I don’t know why I come here...” Finally, the Exec has moved on and it’s your turn. The words sprint past the contempt and flow out like honey, “Venti Latte please.” The suffering of your time in line is comparable to a bad night on American Idol, like getting hit by a bus cranking Celine Dion. But when you get your coffee, the warmth rolls over you and happy thoughts flutter through your brain like birds of a feather. You are complete. Another satisfied postal worker.

Tags: Celine Dion, Nickelback, Jerry Springer, Starbucks, Motorola, Jeff Foxworthy