Last Starbeetus Update Thankfully, I'm leaving Starbeetus next week and moving on to work with one of my teachers in the kitchen at a casino. A lot of my teachers work there, really, so I should get a load of experience there. In celebration, here's some of my fondest fatty moments: Once a week, a morbidly obese man comes in. He's big enough to be on the show My 600 Pound Life, wears glasses that press into the side of his blubbery face, and walks like a diseased penguin. Even when he's 10 feet away, you can smell him. As you can probably guess, he gets a java chip frapp with extra whip cream and mocha drizzle in the cup and on top. Just today, a woman freaked out on me when I handed her her caramel frapp. I have a habit of purposefully not giving fats drizzle on top and, unless they ask for it, leaving off the whip cream. A Tess sized whale came in this morning while I was brewing the next batch of coffee, and I'll admit, I always struggle with the coffee filters. So she decides, while my back is turned and after I asked her to give me a second, to order anyways, shouting to make absolutely sure I heard her. I ignored her while I finally got the coffee brewing, turned around, and asked her to repeat the order. She huffed at me, ordered a Venti caramel frapp with whip. As I started ringing it up, she was already shoving her money at me, so I started going as slow as I could and gave her the most unimpressed look I could. When she got her drink, she just stared at it and gave me the most distressed look I've ever seen. "You guys don't put caramel drizzle on it anymore?" She seriously sounded devastated. I offered to put some on, and of course, she wanted extra This fat old lady comes in almost every day and always orders a Venti white chocolate mocha, iced, with 2 extra pumps of white mocha. Every single time I mess up her drink a little on purpose because she also seems to be a bossy, impatient fatty. Sometimes I'll forget the extra mocha, sometimes I add more ice than necessary, sometimes I make it decaf. Once, I used a flat lid instead of a dome, giving her only half the whip cream. "Why didn't I get a dome lid this time?" I just told her I usually save the dome lids for frapps and walked away to clean something. She literally reported me to my manager over the whip cream, and later on I got a talk about how she likes a lot of whip and a dome lid. Thankfully my manager is a shitlord and we usually make fun of Tumblr and fatties when we work together. One whale comes in every day, but I haven't seen her for a while, and every time she comes in, she's wearing a collar. Literally a pink collar with dog prints on it and rhinestones and a little tag that says "Momo." I have no idea. I think it's a Dom/Sub thing, my coworker thinks she's a furry. We're not sure. She also gets a white chocolate mocha (all the fatties seem to), out of breath the moment she walks in, cheeks always flushed. Her hair is also bubblegum pink with her nasty, greasy brown roots an inch long. And finally, there's the fat bitch. Everyone in our location hates her, really. She gets a hazelnut latte, with whole milk, whip, and both drizzles. Not really a difficult drink, but if you mess it up, she's been known to get you fired. Messing up drinks isn't a fire-able offense, but if she complains about you and comes back, sees you still there, she'll complain again. Eventually the managers are just tired of it and offer to either move you to a different location, or work the shifts she doesn't come in on. Not fair at all, but the bitch seems to love the "power" she has there. Since next week is my last, she's gotten decaf every time she comes in. She can go fuck herself. And of course there's every fatty that orders an overly sugary drink, but "with non-fat milk." I like to think of it as the Starbeetus version of "lots of calories with a diet coke." The moms who get their eight year olds venti frapps with loads of coffee and sugar. The people who try to rush you and throw fits when there's a line, and the ones who'll talk to you for thirty minutes about all their condishuns. I'm a barista, not a doctor, I don't want to hear about your nasty foot fungus. I love being a barista, and one day maybe I'll own my own cafe, but I don't think I'll ever love serving the fatties.  Goodbye Starbeetus.