Coffee...I Just Don't Get It

I have a Tim Hortons card. I have a Starbucks gold card. We have a Tassimo, a Keurig and now a Nespresso machine, all three lined up on the counter. I likely spend more on coffee in a year than on any other 'Indulgence'. But I haven't had a cup of coffee in 20 years. I hate the stuff. I don't even like coffee flavoured ice cream or dessert. Sorry, Tiramisu, I want to love you, I really do. But I don't. 

We have more coffee capsules in my kitchen than we know what to do with

I get the 'let's go for coffee' thing. I enjoy plunking myself down in a comfortable chair at Starbucks for half an hour as much as the next guy. I love the vibe. But I don't like the coffee. I get mocked for ordering a bottle of water, but I do. I have a tremendous amount of respect for those Baristas. It's not a job I could do or ever want. I think I'd probably punch someone in the face if I had to stand there and listen to the 'Venti skinny half caf extra hot triple shot' crap all day long. If I was a barista I'd triple up the caffeine in the decaf orders just to see some dude go wiggy when all that high test coffee hits his delicate system. 

Just imagine how much I love ordering for my lovely wife. At least when she liked Tim's it was just a 'large coffee, triple milk'. On our last visit to Starbucks I asked her what she wanted and she actually said, 'Oh, just a grande creme brûlée latte, skinny, half sweet, extra hot, hold the whip, but make sure they put the creme brûlée topping on it, k?'  Are you freaking kidding me?  First, I need to remember that all the way from the car to the store, and then I have to actually say it out loud. Argh. The great news is that my kids are now totally into Starbucks too. So now instead of having to remember one crazy-ass bizarre coffee order, I need to remember four. Thank God those Baristas are lovely, patient people. And polite. And forgiving. 

Now that McDonalds is big into the coffee game, I find myself at the drive thru there quite often. The real challenge with all of these coffee places is remembering their unique ordering lingo. Laura's order there is a Non-fat vanilla latte made with sugar free vanilla. They don't use words like skinny or half sweet, so when you drop those words into the order you really mess up the fifteen year old at the other end of the speaker. I've muddled up Mommy's coffee order more than once.  Result?  Three delightful daughters mocking me from the backseat.  Good times.  

The kid at the drive thru mocks me, the kids in the car mock me.

Some places are pretty anal about their java.  Tim Horton's is such a place.  I guess after all these years, they've earned the right to be a little bossy about their coffee, but on the other hand, with all their new competition, they may need to think about giving their customer what they want.  I have had more than one argument with the Tim's lady about Laura's preference for triple milk.  They have often fought me on the three milk thing, suggesting that it will dilute and cool the coffee too much.  My question is why the hell do they care what you do with their coffee once you've split with the buck fifty to own it. I always win the battle with the Tim's lady, but she looks down her nose at me in a very disapproving way.

So I sit here surveying three fancy coffee makers, just having arrived home from a visit to Starbucks, looking at my 11 year old kid enjoying a frothy espresso she just made herself wondering what's wrong with me...how can I not like it? I've tried to like it.  I've tried to simply tolerate it.  I used to try to drink it when I needed to look grown up. Now I've just given it all up, and I stick to diet coke.  But that's another story completely.

You have coffee for breakfast, I have diet coke.  

Happy Holidays, It's Poem Time!

The Christmas poem has been going since 1997.  Christmas just isn't Christmas for me anymore without the poem.  From the Slater house to your house, Best Wishes for an amazing holiday season and for a new year filled with only happy surprises.  

Sean, Laura, Haley, Ainsley & Madeline

Poem v. 2014

‘Twas the week before Christmas

And all through my house,

Every creature was stirring

Even that mouse.

The pest man came twice

To deal with that mouse,

But it keeps coming back

It must love our warm house.

The presents aren’t wrapped

The shopping’s not even done,

Our guests get here soon

Isn’t Christmastime fun?

Not a moment of quiet

No time to just sit,

We’re all going crazy

Even the cat’s in a fit.

On the 21^st of December

We took a trip to the mall,

A choice I regret

Not a smart one at all.

The lots were just crazy

As one would expect,

The drivers all angry

Not a smile to detect.

Each year at our house

We do it much the same way,

The same lights and same tree

For each Christmas day.

So Laura had an idea

To shake things up just right,

To change how we do it

A bold new Christmas sight.

So we’re trying it her way

A whole new holiday take,

She went out and she bought

A brand new tree that is fake.

And it’s not just fake green

It’s as fake as they come,

It’s so brash and so white

The kids think it’s just dumb.

For the first time in years

The tree just isn’t real,

Who knew for the kids

It would be such a big deal.

It lights up the room

And most of our house,

We can’t hide from its glow

Nor can our mouse.

The kids hate that white tree

Which makes it even more fun,

If you’re keeping the score it's

Girls zero, Mom one!

If I was to bet

All this angst fades away,

When morning arrives

On this Christmas day.

When they circle around

This glowing festive delight,

To open their presents

Under that tree oh so white.

The tree they despise

But the season they cherish,

The memories won’t fade,

And that tree just won’t perish.

If it's real or it's fake

It doesn’t matter at all,

We spend great time together

And we all have a ball.

So this is our chance

From all in our house,

To send our holiday wishes

To you and your mouse.

The much maligned Slater 2015 Christmas Tree

Admitting Your Problem is Half the Battle

I've denied it for years. My lovely wife tells me I have a problem. Even the kids know it. My problem has landed me in trouble with the people I know and love, and with total strangers. It's even landed me in hot water with the law. Multiple times. I guess I may as well admit it... I'm a crappy driver. 

There. I said it. I've been known to speed. I have occasionally viewed a stop light or a stop sign as a mere suggestion, and I have frequently seen a yellow light as nothing more than a challenge. I've banged into other cars, and they've banged into me. I've been described as a  menace by the people I love. Even my dad feels like he has to comment when we're driving together..."What, you don't stop at stop signs anymore?" as I roll on through. Before she passed away, I was driving with my Mom one day and I did a patented Sean Slater dip-stop at an intersection. She said, "Oh, Sean, your dad wouldn't like that too much."

I've even been stopped by these guys.  For driving in the wrong lane.  Who knew?

To be certain, I know how to drive. I've even taken lessons. I've had my license since I was sixteen and I got it on the first try. I totally get the fundamentals of driving but I'm a multi-tasker and I'm always in a hurry.  Before the angry mob arrives at my door, let me just say that I've never had an accident or a ticket while talking on the phone or texting. I've often gone for years without a ticket, and then I've had a flurry of bad activity that results in a renewed relationship with law enforcement. 

A couple of years ago, I had such a flurry.  Within the span of about 18 months, I got 3 speeding tickets, a red light ticket and a stop sign ticket.  It's bad enough that this flurry cost me a bundle, but worse, it attracted the attention of both my insurance company and our government overlords.  I arrived home from a Christmas vacation to find a letter from the Ministry of Transportation compelling me to attend a bad driver counselling session, and to prove that they meant business, they advised that if I didn't show up exactly when they wanted me to, my license would be suspended, toute de suite.

A view that I'm unfortunately accustomed to.

So I arrived on the appointed day at the appointed time to meet Dave, my counsellor. Dave was clearly bullied in high school and was now using his important role in the public service to exact revenge whenver he could.  Dave spent our time together judging me, being as condescending as possible, and at one point, he even threatened to cut up my license. Heavy on the lecturing, light on the counselling. After an hour of berating me, he slapped a year of probation on me and warned me that he had better not see me back again, because if he did, he'd be compelled to use those scissors. I bolted, never looking back, but unable to shake the sound of Van Halen's Jump that was wafting from the ghetto blaster in Dave's office.

I knew I was in trouble when I saw Dave's ghetto blaster.

So I left there feeling appropriately slapped around, and hell-bent on not getting another ticket.  My hands returned to the 10 and 2 position on the steering wheel, my phone stayed in my pocket, and I became a fan of my cruise-control.  All good and on the road to recovery.  Just as I was feeling like my rehabilitation was taking hold, and I was getting over the shot to my confidence and yes, even manhood following my visit with Dave, I arrived home a few weeks later to find that my insurance company had decided that  as a result of all of this, I was just too big a risk.  Cancelled.  Awesome. Finding another insurer in a short period of time to take on all that risk...was not easy and was definitely not cheap.  

So now, I'm insured again, and when the bill comes in it's like a monthly reminder of my emasculating visit with Dave.  I'm trying to be better, and I have been (although definitely not perfect).  Until recently, that is.  I was out with my daughter Madeline, and I managed to slide into the back of another car in a rainstorm. The cars were fine, and so were all the drivers and passengers, but Maddie was furious.  Even the other driver commented about her death-stare as he drove away unscathed, "Looks like you're in real trouble with her," he said. And I was.  Now she flinches every time she hears that I have to drive her somewhere. Good times.  In related news, my lovely wife will never, ever let me buy a new car,  "...cuz you're just gonna smash it up anyway."

Good drivers don't have the tow truck on speed dial, right?

Hi, my name is Sean, and I'm a bad driver.  There, I said it.  Admitting it is half the battle, right?

Welcome to the Club...

I am a sucker for status.  If you’ve been following along, I’ve talked about how much I love being Super Elite with Air Canada, and Platinum with Hyatt, and Gold with Marriott.  I enjoy the things that come along with all of this status, and I take full advantage of all of the perks. Ask anyone who’s ever traveled with me.  I use the priority line, I go to the airport lounge, and most importantly, I board the plane first. First.

I worked hard for this card.  I'm damn sure gonna use it. 

My passion for status extends beyond travel programs to regular old customer loyalty programs.  Shop here, get points, earn perks. Shop, get, earn, repeat-you know the deal.  It should be no surprise to learn that when I heard of the gold card program at Starbucks I immediately signed up.  I even downloaded the app and loaded up my account so I can pay with my phone.  I used to think that was poncy and flaky.  Now I just think it’s convenient. Yes, I'm shallow. About as deep as a backyard kiddie pool.

As soon as I signed up, I started getting offers from my new buddies at Starbucks.  When you get 5 stars, you earn Green status.  When you hit 30 stars, you become Gold.  The Holy Grail.  When you’re Green, you get free refills on your regular coffee in the store.  When you’re gold, you get those free coffee refills and a free drink with every 12 stars. You also get a fancy coffee beverage on your birthday.

Smart people over there at Starbucks

For the uninitiated, you get one star for every purchase in the store.  For some strange reason, I was getting 2 stars for every purchase.  My lovely wife was furious to find out that I was getting double stars.  I was also earning free drinks at a crazy speed.  Every time the people at Starbucks sent me an offer, I, like Pavlov’s dog, responded exactly the way they wanted me to.  Dear Sean, Go to the store and buy a drink and we’ll give you a free star.  Done.  Dear Sean, Go to the store and buy some take home coffee and we’ll give you 5 stars.  Done.  Twice.  Dear Sean, do naked cartwheels into the store…

The long and the short of this is that I am a marketer’s dream. Everything they wanted me to do, I did.  I probably became Gold at Starbucks faster than anyone on record.  I now have the gold logo on my app, and I’m expecting my special Gold Card to arrive in the mail any day now.  I’m their target customer. I’m sure they’re writing a case study about me.  I’m the proof of concept. Starbucks is brilliant.

They got me.  

The reality is that I really love status.  The kicker is that I really, really hate coffee.