My favorite thing to do in the city, hands down, is to go roll around in one of the parks on a warm sunny day. Not that there is much else to do. Available Philadelphia activities generally include;
eating
drinking
shopping
going to shows
getting asked for your spare change
getting mugged for your spare change
jaywalking
eating again 'cause you're still bored.
However, when creativity strikes, or you are turning into a robot internet zombie while sitting bored at home (it happens) Here are some swell things to do in town.
Give out food to the homeless [it always makes me feel good about my self when I'm fucking everything else up]
Go to the soft pretzel factory by the Italian market at midnight. Skinny biker boys from all over Philly come out to grab cheap tasty pretzels, it is quite the sight to see.
Go thrift store hopping. Buffalo Exchange is my favorite, and after you recover from your depression over how expensive that cute dress is, skip on down to the Green Street Consignment where you can help out your wardrobe without hurting your wallet.
People watch in Rittenhouse square. Or in Washington square. Or on any patch of sunny grass/outdoor cafe/street corner in the nice parts of the city. Subways and trains are swell for this to, but be careful you don't come off as too much of a creeper.
Bum around used book stores. Cute one on Tenth between Locust and Spruce, my favorite however is near the corner of Second and Market.
Go espresso hopping. Alright, this counts as drinking, but is a good way to meet people. Find some of the smaller coffee shops in Philly (i.e. anything other than Starbucks) They will most likely be run by people who love the coffee bean, and love to chat about it. Spruce Street Espresso is small and friendly, Blue in Green will guarantee you a good conversation spiced with some sweet people watching action, and during a lull the guys at Brew Ha Ha are pretty entertaining. What's great about coffee shops is the conversational aspect. With the exception of the Last Drop, whose charm lies in their vehemence towards their customers, most baristas consider it part of their job to be chatty.
and thats it. there is nothing else to do in the city. at least that I can think of...
its been a long fucking day.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Disaster at the Bucks
Today was a shitty day.
I work at Starbucks, which usually involves me spilling hot coffee on my hands, and pretending to care about inconsiderate people. Not to mention the daily battle not to consume every single scone in our florescent lit pastry case. Today however, was different. Howard Schultz, the owner and founder of our world famous business came to visit our store.
First of all, the idea was that he was to visit the Philadelphia Starbucks to see what was going on up in the city of Brotherly love. Now, this would be all well and good if he truly was seeing the status quo. He could come and wait with me at 5:17 AM while my shift manager stands me up in the cold. He could do a quick "spin" as the condiment bar turns into a wasteland of empty carafes, used sugar packets, and coffee spills. He could try his hardest not to scream at the crazy bagel lady who makes you toast her bagels to toasty-burnt perfection. But this is not what happens to Howard. Instead, a team of quick talking, fresh pressed men in suits took over our store, making it "acceptable" for the Prez, and making it very clear on everything we were doing wrong. One of them even took over my job ringing for a bit, and forcefully called a customer's order down the line. The change in atmosphere was clear even on the other side of the counter where my grande skinny vanilla late stood, confused at why this smartly dressed shouting man was interrupting his usually laid back, often disorganized Starbucks experience. After this hostile takeover was done with, all that was left was to sit pretty and wait for the Man behind the Mask to come and judge us. No pressure at all. I felt like an elementary schooler who had been stuffed into their best uncomfortable dress and shoved into a room filled with distant relatives.
After what seems like an eternity, He comes with a team of important looking henchmen and orders a large amount of annoyingly tiny coffees in quick succession. I call them, and re-call them because my bar-man wasn't listening. I ring everything up, and Howard gives me his Starbucks card, proudly instructing me not to use the partner discount. I nod, we have a moment of awkwardness, exchange names, and then I scurry off to see how Eric is doing with their drinks. It is not going well. He has done something to mess up a solo macchiato, which for those non-coffee drinkers out there consists of a single shot of espresso, and a spooned dollop of foam on top. I go away to get more short cups and come back to find three more failed attempts and our evil district manager back at the bar, whispering curt instructions on how to make the drink. This is the most demeaning thing, ever. Already ready to cry, I take over on bar to save Eric. In my rush to get this ridiculous situation over with, I pour a single shot of espresso. We are supposed to always pull two shots at a time for some barely relevant reason. Our district manager sees and gives me even more demeaning comments, even though it should be obvious that I just wanted to do the quickest thing possible to fix the situation. When I finally get the fifth stupid attempt at a macchiato up on the bar, I look up to the face of a very annoyed Howard.
"Did you get his short Pikes Place?" Whispers the district manager.
In all the commotion, I forgot to get the president of Starbucks his tiny cup of coffee.
Like I said. Shitty day. I'm still cringing over the whole thing. It will be at least a few more weeks until I can look back and summon up a genuine chuckle.
I work at Starbucks, which usually involves me spilling hot coffee on my hands, and pretending to care about inconsiderate people. Not to mention the daily battle not to consume every single scone in our florescent lit pastry case. Today however, was different. Howard Schultz, the owner and founder of our world famous business came to visit our store.
First of all, the idea was that he was to visit the Philadelphia Starbucks to see what was going on up in the city of Brotherly love. Now, this would be all well and good if he truly was seeing the status quo. He could come and wait with me at 5:17 AM while my shift manager stands me up in the cold. He could do a quick "spin" as the condiment bar turns into a wasteland of empty carafes, used sugar packets, and coffee spills. He could try his hardest not to scream at the crazy bagel lady who makes you toast her bagels to toasty-burnt perfection. But this is not what happens to Howard. Instead, a team of quick talking, fresh pressed men in suits took over our store, making it "acceptable" for the Prez, and making it very clear on everything we were doing wrong. One of them even took over my job ringing for a bit, and forcefully called a customer's order down the line. The change in atmosphere was clear even on the other side of the counter where my grande skinny vanilla late stood, confused at why this smartly dressed shouting man was interrupting his usually laid back, often disorganized Starbucks experience. After this hostile takeover was done with, all that was left was to sit pretty and wait for the Man behind the Mask to come and judge us. No pressure at all. I felt like an elementary schooler who had been stuffed into their best uncomfortable dress and shoved into a room filled with distant relatives.
After what seems like an eternity, He comes with a team of important looking henchmen and orders a large amount of annoyingly tiny coffees in quick succession. I call them, and re-call them because my bar-man wasn't listening. I ring everything up, and Howard gives me his Starbucks card, proudly instructing me not to use the partner discount. I nod, we have a moment of awkwardness, exchange names, and then I scurry off to see how Eric is doing with their drinks. It is not going well. He has done something to mess up a solo macchiato, which for those non-coffee drinkers out there consists of a single shot of espresso, and a spooned dollop of foam on top. I go away to get more short cups and come back to find three more failed attempts and our evil district manager back at the bar, whispering curt instructions on how to make the drink. This is the most demeaning thing, ever. Already ready to cry, I take over on bar to save Eric. In my rush to get this ridiculous situation over with, I pour a single shot of espresso. We are supposed to always pull two shots at a time for some barely relevant reason. Our district manager sees and gives me even more demeaning comments, even though it should be obvious that I just wanted to do the quickest thing possible to fix the situation. When I finally get the fifth stupid attempt at a macchiato up on the bar, I look up to the face of a very annoyed Howard.
"Did you get his short Pikes Place?" Whispers the district manager.
In all the commotion, I forgot to get the president of Starbucks his tiny cup of coffee.
Like I said. Shitty day. I'm still cringing over the whole thing. It will be at least a few more weeks until I can look back and summon up a genuine chuckle.
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