This is a different kind of diary for me; usually I write in the WHEE (Weight Health Eating and Exercise) support forum, and usually write about my struggle to get my health back. However I posted two panic-button diaries that WHEEbles and others have responded to with great compassion and assistance especially Clio2 and George Pirpiris, and felt I should respond by giving you a heads up about the REAL Starbucks in the District, and why we should apply pressure to this behemoth organization to change its ways in order to serve the community better.
WHEE (Weight, Health, Eating and Exercise) is a community support diary for Kossacks who are currently or planning to start losing, gaining or maintaining their weight through diet and exercise or fitness. Any supportive comments, suggestions or positive distractions are appreciated. If you are working on your weight or fitness, please -- join us! You can also click the WHEE tag to view all diary posts.
I arrived in somewhat severe peril at National Airport last Sunday at about 9:30 p.m. I was supposed to arrive at DULLES airport at 5 p.m., but US Airways has a way of sending its passengers wherever it likes for its own convenience. (story for another activist blog - Boycott USAirways). In any event I was there, I was taking pain medicine around the clock still, and not sleeping more than about 2 hours twice a day, about half the daily normal for normal people and about 75% of normal sleep for me.But I had planned ahead, yessiree! I got myself a Starbucks.com card for those moments when I needed to network, or work, and couldn't get to a public library or other internet resources. Because Starbucks advertises that with a membership deal card (I was given one as a gift by my Chevron manager last Christmas, and since the card does not expire, I registered it and added $15. So in my near-cash-free state I decided I was prepared.
So when my new landlady drove me into Farragut West near the White House and dropped me at the Metro, I walked into the Eye Street and 18th Starbucks - as posh a place as you can imagine. I was wearing a beautiful faux-suede fawn colored winter coat with fur-fringed hood and cuffs, a new Navajo topaz necklace with a gem as big as your thumb which I got for Christmas, a sterling silver bracelet I had gotten from a jeweler down on her luck whose prescriptions and groceries I paid for a couple of times, a black fleece underneath the coat because of the severe cold, my $150 Birkenstock ass-kicker boots with orthotics, my hair was neat (but tends to frizz) and my universal blue stretch pants which are good for walking around on cold days because they stretch to accommodate the bandages on my knees so I don't have to undress to rewrap them. Brought my card in, ordered a green tea, set down my very large laptop case which was stuffed with my work computer as well as my own laptop, and set aside my Harris Teeter recycle bag. Harris Teeter for those out of area, sells groceries at approximately 300% of Safeway prices. But since there was no Safeway at my stop on the Blue Line, I had gone to Harris Teeter.
What happened next can only be explained by three possible things: a) rampant customer abuse by casual Starbucks staff; b) reverse racism by the dreadlocked junior staffer and "see no evil"attitude by his supervisors who were too busy or overworked to supervise him when he refused to assist me; or b) the worst possibility of all - that Starbucks in the District is in the systematic habit of evaluating the non-posh in their stores as homeless people or those they believe are homeless.
The reason I grew concerned about c) and put it here is because when I sat down, there was a man who was clearly paranoid, doing a slight rocking back and forth and staring thing, who kept eyeing me when he thought I wasn't looking. I was having terrible problems with their new locked-down AT&T wireless program, and even my starbucks account wasn't getting me in. I eventually had to phone the helpdesk (more minutes spent on my AT&T Wireless account, ironically enough) and in between I argued with Bob (the homeless quiet paranoid) about the seed lines and vampires and why Dick Cheney is or is not THE Satan and if he is the same person as Vin Diesel. It was a fun convo and I sensed that only some good solid reality orientation would get this man off Seroquel and back into reality. He was then joined by Steve, who was an entirely different case, who had apparently panhandled (or turned in bottles for) a $20 and he brandished it wildly, offered it to me (I was counting out pennies) offered it to Bob, who refused it summarily - he has his own money - and Dave staggered up to the counter, early into his Friday bender, and got a muffin and a coffee, which he shoved in his mouth, and spilled crumbs everywhere. He had a rich baritone voice, and struck me as a veteran who was shell shocked not from Vietnam, but from the first gulf war. He was that age -"class of 72"- only 5 years older than me. But ol'Steve kept mumbling about "niggers"and "can't use that word!"and then I figured well, maybe Dreadlocks decided that Steve's colorful insults deserved a response. And because I was sitting in Homelessville in the back of the Starbucks, he would treat me as if I pre-emptively used hate language on him as well. Just guessing.
Then I dropped a full large size green tea, missing my computer completely but making a puddle about 4 feet in diameter right in front of the rest room access. And so I went up and told Dreadlocks that I had spilled my tea all over and could he come with a mop. He blew me off with what I call the BC Hand and said "I'll get to it later." Maybe - after Steve left? Dunno. Counted out pennies to make up $5 so that I could buy ANOTHER starbucks card because this one was NOT going to register, and their helpdesk said all I could do was buy another card. Not happy, me, because $5 is the difference between success and failure at the present moment. I bought the starbucks card with pennies from my penny bag. Now my image as a homeless person was complete. Bag of food, big satchel, and bag of pennies.
The badge for my access to the government installation I work at wasn't visible - it was in my pocket.
The man at Starbucks.com was sympathetic and offered me a $20 gift starbucks card for my trouble with their network. The replacement $5 card DID work. And the credit is on its way. Less satisfactory, however, was the attitude of Dreadlocks so I told Mr. Helpdesk about the appalling service, and the 3- hour ongoing wait for the puddle to get mopped up. After I got off the phone I went up to the manager, since the place was now quiet, and said Ïs there a GOOD reason that no one has come to mop up the green tea I spilled at 1:30, or do you routinely wait 3 hours to mop up a hazardous floor spill?
She stared at me for a long moment (homeless person??? hm. Rich bitch? hard to say what she thought) and then followed me out to the spill. There was a pile of free newspapers I had used to blot it up - three hours before. She shook her head in disgust and went to fetch Dreadlocks. And I heard him exclaim, giving me a mournful look, "Things were busy!"
For three friggin hours. Suuuure.
Having been in inadvertent disguise as a homeless person in the streets of DC at 20 degrees in the winter, I decided it was time for a point to be made. So I got out my government badge with my Dec 16 photo for my new employer on it, and laid it down on the counter. I said Ï don't know what you think I am or who I am but I'm a new consultant who works in Arlington, and I am appalled at not only being treated like a second class citizen but that how you treat the actual homeless here if my experience is any judge." The woman mumbled an apology. At this moment, Dave, now three sheets to the wind and staggering, came lumbering in breathing fire - vodka probably. I bought him a large black coffee with my new Starbucks card and he stumbled out of the cafe with me. Immediately, the plaza security guard (in a suit) came up and asked Steve if he had left his bag outside so he could be reunited with it. And I told him that Steve needed immediate care because of his intoxicated state, and he sprinted off to call Social Services.
The Metro staff have got it. Starbucks needs a point made. What say you WHEEBLES and DCKossacks?