How Fucking Hard Can It Be?
I take a half-spoon of sugar in my coffee. I don’t like it to be all that sweet, but I do like a bit of the edge taken off the bitterness. Any of you purists out there can kiss my arse.
You would think, seeing as taking sugar in one’s coffee is hardly the height of exotic hedonism, that your average muppet working in a coffee shop would be moderately skilled at applying the substance with a degree of familiar efficiency. You would think this especially, given that standard coffee shop employees (there is no such thing as a ‘barista’, fuck you and the horse you rode in on) tend to be a cut above the kind of peculiarly deformed, blue-skinned, mentally stunted troglodytes that generally lurk nervously behind the service counter of fast food establishments.
And, given that the particular skill of stirring sugar into a beverage of any sort – even weird ones like banana martinis and those fruity, vaguely tea-related cups of weasel piss that new age hippies seem so oddly attached to – is not a particularly challenging task, you’d imagine, however much you might perhaps struggle at first, that this would be a skill that with a reasonable amount of dedication and practise could be acquired by even the vaguest and most distracted of coffee shop employees. And you would be wrong.
For some fucking unfathomable reason, absolutely every single bloody time I order coffee from anywhere where they bung the sugar in for you (there’s lots of them here), and no matter how often the muppets stir the bloody stuff, I absolutely in-fucking-variably get a mildly dissatisfying beverage compounded by a mouthful or two of thick, undrinkably sweet hell-in-a-fucking-paper-cup misery at the very bottom. And given you can’t really spew the stuff out all over the place with great cry of ‘Egads, those degenerate, poisoning pig-farmers have beset me with their colossal incompetence once more, the blighters!’, and given that by the time you realise what is happening it tends to be too late anyway, there is often no choice but to swallow the filth.
And yet, somehow when I stir the bastard myself, this doesn’t seem to happen. I am not convinced that this is because I have unusually excellent coffee stirring skills, although this is presumably a possibility, but I am nevertheless baffled as to why this superficially simple task seems so utterly beyond these retards. It’s just stirring a cuppa – how fucking hard can it possibly be, for the love of god?
Bob Marley – Stir It Up Oh yes indeed!
