Starbucks cashiers come in two flavors.
Either the hot girl or the hot guy.
There really aren’t any other combinations that I see.
Today the cashier is a young guy that is not the sharpest tool in the shed.
Lets call him the Cub. This will make sense in a moment.
This is the kind of kid that his parents gave up on the idea of college a long time ago and would be thrilled if trade school happened.
Enter the cougar.
A woman just entered the Starbucks that, well she is just on the prowl.
Late thirties, push up bra, tight t-shirt, low-rise/skinny jeans, all the ingredients for cookies.
Has that whole attitude that says, “SOMEONE is gonna treat me like the hoe that I am.”
She leans in to catch the eye of the cashier and a loud “Hi Trey!”
Of course his name is Trey, this is Manhattan Beach after all.
And why she would be pressing her breasts into the pastry glass is beyond me.
And the cashier, reacting by instinct because he is too stupid otherwise, answers back with a “Hey Tamra.”
Of course she is a Tamra.
Isn’t anyone named Betty or Diane anymore?
As the line moves up, the cougar is fidgety like a kitten on crack, desperately looking for someone to pay attention to her.
Its pretty awkward for a few moments until the line moves enough for the Cougar to talk to the Cub.
And it is at this moment that I see something that absolutely dropped my jaw.
Hair flip, with a giggle.
Are you shitting me?
Honey, high school was obviously more than a decade ago, what the hell?
And the Cub eats it up like a cupcake.
This is almost too much to watch.
With the frenzy that she is after him, they may consumate the relationship right there on the counter.
Bare minimum, she may flash him.
And then, the magic moment is over.
The cougar casts a last, lingering look at the Cub, and moves over to the pick up window.
And begins hitting on the barrista.
The Cougar is relentless.
And what ruins all of this, a fairly hot woman in heat making the rounds, is the fact that she isn’t discerning at all, hitting on anyone in a Starbucks uniform.
Like the old Playboy write ups on the back of the centerfold, its a Turn off.
Plus she is younger than me, and I have issues with that.
If she is of an age that I could have fathered her, I am out.
But maybe thats just me.
But the most frustrating part of all of this is the cashier.
The Cub appears to be totally unaware of the fact that, if he figured out houw to work it, he could be closing like a revolving door, constantly and easily.
That may be a little crude and blunt, but it is a basic truth.
As I get older, it is the truly scandalous moments that I passed up that I regret the most.
Odd phrase, but a solid truth.
And truth is a good thing.
I WOULD LIKE TO HEAR FROM THE COUGARS. LEAVE A COMMENT.