I Hate Going Sleeveless

Starbucks, as part of the world-wide contribution to the green movement, has this past year made several changes to its usual behavior in an effort to waste less and utilize more. I commend them, even if it was mostly to improve company image. They've switched to greener plastics for their cups, they've cut down considerably on water usage by removing the spoon jacuzzi...
...and they've all but outlawed sleeves.

Sleeves, for the uninformed, are those clever little cardboard cup snuggies that slide up the bottom of the cup and prevent one's hand from ever having to feel the warmth and love your coffee wants to provide. Once upon a time they were placed in delightful racks just about everywhere; the hand-off bar, the condiment bar, heck, we'd usually have 8 or 9 lining our wrists and arms just to feel pretty. Not anymore. Now the racks are held behind the counter and viciously hoarded, only being handed out on Venti beverages, extra hot beverages, anything made with hot water (like Chai lattes and hot teas), coffees, and anyone else who wants one can go hang. Or ask us for one.

In most cases, I agree, they really aren't necessary. Beverages made to standard are steamed to 160 degrees, not much hotter than the showers you take, and in a tall or a grande, with the insulation of the cup, it's usually not enough to feel much discomfort, if any at all.

Our customers don't agree, and just about every single person that gets a hot drink (and about every other person who gets a cold drink) asks for a sleeve.

Or they would if they knew what they were called. I've had people ask for those cardboard thingies, cup jackets, cozies, drink condoms, cup holders, drink snuggies, hand things, cup jobbies, and any number of any combination of words that could possibly ever hope to aspire to come close to indicating a sleeve. I've gotten pretty good at deciphering their words and their expressions, and can hand out a sleeve before they say anything and as soon as they give their first puzzled, searching look.

The best part about all this, though, is that most people don't even try to give it a name. They resort to sign language. However, the easiest sign language to ask for a cup sleeve is to give your cup a short, brief (and probably unsatisfying) hand job. We've gotten pretty used to this, and these days most times don't even crack a smile.

That is, I didn't, until the one day when one man's sign language wasn't the typical cup hand job but, instead, he fondled the cup's invisible balls.

He got his sleeve. His cup found its soul mate.



By the way, everybody, if you ever want to argue things on a more personal level, go ahead and email me.

Here's a great music video, because we're learning NEW THINGS in class.