All the cool kids order fancy frappas and cappas while I just have a java, which they serve to me promptly without the need of expert preparation from the goth barista, but they don't treat me any differently from the dot-com millionaires and i-Pad toting skinny jeaners waiting for their frothy consumable investments, and I appreciate that. Sometimes I'll ask the Starbuckian to wait 3 minutes and then call my name as if I ordered something expensive, just so I can stand and mingle with the youthful ubers. They pretend not to notice that I'm wearing a suit and using a BlackBerry, or that I've shaved my face today and had a shower this week, which I appreciate. I pretend not to notice they can't all be child millionaires.
Today I took the Starbucks survey after a pleasant visit yesterday, and I was asked to provide my age by range. Today was the first time I ever took a survey where I was in the top box. Today I checked the box that said 50+. Not 45-55 like everywhere else, with at least another one or two categories still to live for. 50+. No sense worrying how much or little over the age of fifty this geezer may be. I'll probably be grouped in the "who cares?" section of the analysis.
But I'm not complaining. I also top boxed the income but the frankly bar is set pretty low. I tell you, they'll let anyone in that place. It calls to mind the words of Groucho Marx; (seriously, look it up kids)
"I would never join any club that would have me as a member"
Maybe it's time to make my run.
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