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So I am up early this morning, waiting for the rest of the family to get their sorry behinds out of bed. Not even the Labradors stirred to greet me.

And I am thinking about Starbucks and how such a concept got foisted upon us. Are you all so rich that 4 bucks for coffee every freaking morning is okay for your budget? And you are complaining about gas prices?

Sure, I go there when the Postmistress says she wants to hang out with me and relate or something. But they can’t even get my order right. Hardly ever.

I am not a coffee drinker, so I guess the whole experience is just a little intimidating. First of all, I don’t know what size to order. I don’t go often enough to remember if a venti is tall or supersize is a kiddie cup. I generally just ask for a small cup of chai tea. “Tall?” the trendy clerk asks.

WTF! You can tell by looking at my vacuous stare that I don’t belong in such an establishment and you throw a condescending sophisticated vibe my way? Help a guy out.

So last Sunday, we decided to skip church and go have a coffee. The wifey orders her brew and the coffee clerk writes all over her cup. A love note? Apparently both parties are quite pleased with the sophistication of her order, so it becomes my turn.

I step up to the plate, prepared for the condescension. I know I should learn how to talk coffee, but I am old and not hardly retrainable. “A small Chai tea, no milk please”. I wish I was ordering a Krispy Kreme and a can of Coke.

“Tall?” She demurely inquires.

OK, you spotted my cromagnon forehead. She sees right through me.

And the pissant rebel inside my head is screaming, “Don’t play their effing word games!”

I choose to point. “URGGGH, IGH, Ugh—Dat size pleeze”

(Smug and satisfied)”Tall.” ” And what would you like in your cup?”

“Just Chai tea please”.

When I finally get my little cup with my name written cleverly upon it, I see that what I expected to be dark brown inside is all milky. Apparently “Chai Tea” is not really tea, but some concoction that makes it much more trendy and expensive. I just wanted a soaking tea bag.

Wifey, sensing my frustration, takes it back and orders properly for me. She habla Starbuck at the coffee clerk and gets it right for me.

I hate being embarrassed, so I ask advise: “So, dear: how would a regular guy walk into such an establishment and know how to order chai tea in the size he wants?”

Well, we banter about for awhile and my frustration at being unable to perform such a simple task as ordering my own cup of tea subsides.

Tomorrow is Sunday, and if we choose to skip the service again, I know how to get the job done. Point at the cup I want, say “Put hot water in. Put chai teabag in. Write name. Take money. Me happy.”

Sophisticated.