Monday, August 27, 2012

Supersized!! (without asking)

Supersized!! I had to quit coffee almost ten years ago. It rips up my stomach and makes me all jittery all day. I still love the smell of coffee, and I love holding that warm cup of hot yumminess, but largely, I abstain from caffeine.

However, once in a while, when I'm extra tired and sleepy, I give in. I make sure to order half-decaf, and I order the smallest amount possible. (Otherwise, I will just drink it all up! Much to my body's detriment.)

 This was one of those days. I had two hours of highway driving to do, and I was zoning -- not good. So I went to get a latte this morning at Whole Foods (which uses Allegro coffee and cafe). The smallest size listed on the chalkboard was 12 oz.

I asked if I could get anything smaller than a 12 oz, and I was told by the barista, "I have been told by Allegro that I'm not allowed to make an 8 oz. or anything smaller than a 12 oz."

 Crickets. Not ALLOWED?? What the hell? That is just so weird.

 So I said, persuasively, "If you make a 12 oz, I'll just throw the rest out." I was doing my best to appeal to her Whole-Foodsy sense of no wasting.

 She said "I'll make you one this time, and I know it's really weird, but generally I'm not allowed to."

 I asked, "Why not?"

 "Corporate says that there is a 'lack of quality control.' I don't know why; I've been making 8 oz drinks for four years. But one time I got in trouble for making an 8 oz. What kind of milk do you want?"

 "Oh. Um, whatever you're holding is great."

 "Yeah, if you could go online and give them some feedback, that would be awesome. It's really silly."
She handed me a lovely latte.

 I agreed, saying, "Yeah, back in the old days, this was a normal small. I just can't drink that much coffee."

 "I know. It's ridiculous."

 Yes, barista, it is. We live in a world that not only asks if you want things Supersized, but a world where things are supersized without us asking.

Corporations literally force people to accept a smallest size of 12 oz. in a coffee shop. When we go on road trips, and my husband emerges from the gas station store with his requisite diet soda, we laugh at its enormity. And then he tells me it's a "small."

 I just picture our world, a century hence, as the blobs in Wall-E. And that's not so funny.