Don't write about it, in fact:  don't write.

OK, so the other day the sun was shining.  Today, it's cloudy.  And cold.  Winter is on its way.

The Dawnster and I had a discussion a few weeks ago, a discussion concerning the difference between scruples and morals.  They're at least cousins, probably brother and sister, but not identical twins.  

The setting?  Starbucks.  

Bone of contention?  Is it a matter of scruples or morals to leave a beanery for a brief phone call in the privacy of one's Morris Minor, then return less than five minutes later and ask for one's first and only refill?  

So much of it comes down to the sheer physical demands of slicing and carrying, and to luckily avoiding personal "glitches" during critical moments when you're exposed (glitches like having to go to the bathroom, throwing up because of all the red gloopy stuff, the smell of it, slopping it everywhere).  Clean-up is overrated.

Because Starbucks has feelings too.

So many layers of insulation, yet still there is the cold.

A few years ago--it was a Tuesday I think--I thought a friend was pulling my leg when she told me they were televising something that was more important than my writing, and that I should hurry on over to her house to watch, as I was sans TV at that time.  I can imagine Hemingway working on "The Old Man And The Sea" and hearing it from his lover that he's to put down his pen and watch buildings burn instead.

"Oh, come now.  You're just trying to make me laugh," I said, somewhat in derision, somewhat in disbelief.  This I said to her less than three seconds after first hearing news of the retaliation.  It was my first comment on what happened.

Cheering for the underdog.  It's nothing more than that.  Cheering for David, booing Goliath:  it's as American as French fries and football.

Speaking of which, we attended a game this season.  At the conclusion of the anthem two military jets blasted us; they barely missed the stadium, skimming the lip of our bowl almost.  So loud, you couldn't help but look up at them.  We all looked skyward.  The deaf even looked up, their having been informed of the fly-by via sign language.  The better part of a hundred thousand people all looking up at some old rich man.

I guess that makes it ok.

"You don't have a say in this.  All Starbucks is doing is defending itself against people like you." 

God, am I my biggest critic.    

FORWARD to what happened next

BACK to where this sequence began

OVER to HerbNation HOMEPAGE

PHONE the herb here

"They're not gonna have a problem with five minutes.  If you're that worried, just tell the barista you'll be outside for a brief important call, and ask if it would be ok to get a refill in five.  If at that point you hear about some hard-and-fast company policy--'Leaving the store is leaving the store'--then don't ever patronize them again.   Which, if you would tip once in a while, you know they wouldn't mind."