Prissy Miss @ Starbucks prefers Vatican flush treatments!
I swung the door wide-open and breezed into the aesthetically-pleasing Starbucks Cafe in WeHo (across from 24-hour fitness) when I immediately caught site of a Barista gossipping with a male patron.
Casually, I strolled up to the counter a dozen or so steps away, where I waited patiently for the dizzy broad to wrap up her acid-tongued put-downs targeted at clueless customers in her midst.
Just as the scatter-brained twenty-something gal approached me - she half-turned - and spied a male patron exit the women's restroom.
At this juncture, she uttered-up an unflattering quip about ignorant fellas inclined to take a whiz in the restroom reserved for "Women", as evidenced by a ubiquitous plaque on the door.
I was taken aback.
Over the years - it has been acceptable practice for guys who frequented the "gay-dominated" Starbucks - to relieve themselves in the one provided for those of the female persuasion in the event the "John" for the Dudes was occupied.
To add a bit of levity to the awkward moment, I laughingly asked her (and a male employee who had just sidled up next to her behind the counter) if she ever noticed that the water closet (no pun intended) for the ladies smelled a lot nicer.
I noted that one employee surmised it was due to the fact that perfumed women drifted in-and-out of the cramped space throughout the day - the end result being - that a waft or two of the expensive scents lingered on for a brief spat after the skirts long departed.
Without batting-an-eye or skipping a beat, she retorted:
"No, it's because we (females?) don't pee on the toilet or the tiles like men do."
Before I could offer up a defense, she rattled on with her distasteful diatribe.
"And, we don't pooh in public, either."
I was aghast!
Was she insinuating that customers actually took a squat outside of Starbucks and let fly with a turd or two on the busy traffic-filled WeHo streets just a hop-and-a-skip away?
"Who's been poohing in public," I quizzed.
Her retort was quick.
"One day I witnessed a guy go into the men's room with a newspaper in his hand and he didn't come out 'til about twenty minutes later," she huffed.
Before I could respond, she continued with her anal chat.
"We don't pooh in public."
Now, it suddenly dawned on me why she was getting her sanitary napkin in a flap.
When potty-mouth spat out the phrase - "poohing in public" - she was obviously inferring that women who flounce into a restroom at a Cafe or restaurant avoid plunking their precious tushes down on the toilet seat to take a dump.
Do they wait until they've crossed the thresh hold at home, before letting-her-rip on the throne?
If that's the case, why doesn't Starbucks just yank out the bowls in the shi**er, to economize?
Before the annoying Barista opened her yap again, I exited with a grin, then quickly sauntered over to the side counter for a bit of cream for my piping-hot tea.
Drats!
The pitcher was empty.
It suddenly dawned on me that if this bitch-on-wheels wasn't so hell-bent on kibitzing shamelessly with customers and intent on getting down on her knees to sniff the edge of the toilet seat for splashes of pee (with the ultimate aim of pointing an accusing finger at a suspect male patron) that she might (OMG) be capable of waiting on a customer promptly - in addition to - properly stocking the sidebars without difficulty or delay.
But - that would require a modicum of common sense, intelligence and professionalism - sadly lacking in this poor excuse for a sentient being.
Obviously, too much Starbucks java rots the brain!
Big Trouble in Little Tokyo
There is no escape starbucky!
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