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by CAT
Rated: E · Article · Personal · #1809304
True story about this coffee lover's experience with a local drive-thru...
No, it’s not what you think… well, there is that, too, but it’s REALLY not what you think.  No.  My battle is with a specific neighborhood Dunkin’ Donuts which, no matter what, can’t get an order straight… EVER!

First of all, I live in a deprived neighborhood with no Starbuck’s.  I know… hard to imagine.  I work out of my home most of the time and I’m a coffee-addict.  I love coffee.  I force myself to drink green tea after a certain time of the day just so I am not grinding coffee all afternoon.  It scares the cat.

I had my first very own cup of coffee when I was 7 years old.  It was the first time my father had to get me up and ready for school  He had no idea what he needed to do.  I had picked my own wrinkled white blouse to wear and sat at the kitchen table with my tomboy hair lying every which way.  When I asked him what he was giving me for breakfast, he looked confused for a minute, then quickly turned, got a cup out of the cabinet, and poured me a nice, hot cup o’ Joe.  I added about half a bowl of sugar and some milk, and as soon as he put a couple of pieces of suspiciously dark toast in front of me I was good to go.  I was the most active kid on the playground at morning recess.  School pictures were taken that same day.  I was the only second grader with visible coffee stains on her blouse. 

I’ve been drinking coffee ever since.  I’ve tempered my intake for health reasons making it an even more special thing to me.

Now, back to the battle…

I generally make my own coffee.  I have a French Press and an espresso machine.  I usually forego coffee boutiques and make my own.  I buy and grind my own beans and can afford the time in the morning usually, but not always.  One morning, I had to go to a meeting, I think, and decided, on my way out, to just drive through the local Dunkin’ Donuts.  I was surprised to see they had cappuccino. Ha!  Was it good?  I thought I’d give it a try and, surprisingly, I liked it. 

That was the last time they got my order correct…the beginning of a never-ending shell game…

The next time I drove through I ordered just like the first time.  I always try to be careful when ordering on a speaker.  It must be hard to discern people’s voices sometimes, so I try to speak as clearly as I can:

Speaker:  “Can I take your order?”

Me:  “Yes, I’d like a large, HOT, cappuccino, no whipped cream.”

Speaker:  “Do you want it hot or cold?”

Me: “HOT, please.”

Speaker:  “You want whipped cream with that?”

Me:  “NO! No whipped cream.”

Speaker:  “What size?”

Me:  “Large?”

Speaker:  “Drive around…”

I drove around and, after a couple of minutes, I was handed a cup with an iced cappuccino and a straw sticking out of the whipped cream.  I only accepted this once.

At first, I thought it might just be the person, but it has happened with other servers, as well… and with each new person that serves me I am charged a different price.  It’s like the Latte Lotto.

I’ve gotten SMALL when I ordered LARGE; LARGE when I ordered SMALL.  One time I got all the way home before I realized they’d given me a large cup simply filled with milk and hot water.  Hey, it had a lid on it, okay?

When they advertised new management and underwent a remodel of the store, therefore, replacing the old speaker system… I had hope, but that was when I got the second iced cappuccino.  Sigh…

There is really no end to this story.  The latest incident was last Friday afternoon.  I actually got nasty with the woman.  It was the first time she had served me.  She sounded surprisingly cheerful.  Her voice reminded me of Charo… remember her?  Very upbeat and energetic, I could hear her smile when she responded.  When I got to the window, she even reminded me of a younger version of Charo and cheerfully charged me the latest price which was less than I had paid the last time.  About 15 seconds later someone came up behind her and handed her my order.  It was another large, iced cappuccino with whipped cream.  It must be fun to make those, or something.  I refused to take it and waited the extra time it would take to make what I had really ordered.

I used to think of Dunkin’ Donuts as a place to buy donuts… a happy, guilty pleasure.  I loathe the day I first drove through for a simple, hot cup of coffee because now I must think of it as a challenge… and where’s my dad when I need him?

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