I’ve noticed that panhandlers never need money for crack, or heroin, or meth. It’s always for a cup of coffee, which is sad because this means that all those people at Starbucks are on a slippery slope to being on the streets and sponging for spare change to support their addiction. Caffiends are a sad sight to see. Now, before I offer the immutable definition of a caffiend, let me first share a little anecdote.

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Not terribly long ago I was standing in line, listening to a woman place her coffee order at Starbucks. Something about a “double long in a tall cup, but I don’t want it to be too watered down, so maybe you should make it a triple. No, keep it double but use only two-thirds of the water because I want it to be a fifth strong but not watered down. Okay? Okay, so there’s that. Next I want…” The look on the barista’s face was deceptively calm, as if this were all normal, but inside I could tell he wanted to notify the police, and who could blame him. He was being harassed by a caffiend. They are annoying. And the only way to make them go away is to take their money and give them what they want:

• A double long in a tall cup? I don’t know what the fuck that is, but I’mma double long this muthafucka for you. Anything else?

• A tall, half-caff no-fat soy latte with caramel drizzle? Coming right up, my nizzle.

• A venti half-half, 10 pumps vanilla? … Hold on, bro. So you want me to pump that shit ten times? Word. I’m on it.

Caffiends know what they want. Deny them at your own risk. According to one Starbucks manager, the consequences of not nailing a caffiend’s order on the first try can include, but is not limited to, having the offending coffee dumped in your face or, worse yet, being spit on. Let me repeat that: baristas have been spit on by customers. When the day comes that I apply for a job at Starbucks (and that day will come), and if they are crazy enough to hire me and some caffiend motherfucker dumps coffee on me… I’m sorry, but I will open a can of Folgers® Instant whoop-ass on their ass. If they spit on me, then it’s really going down. I have gout in my right foot, but I can still put my left grandé-foot up somebody’s ass.

Okay, so you’re dying to know: what is a caffiend? This woman below is a caffiend. She’s the double-long-no-make-it-a-triple woman I mentioned earlier. I know… She doesn’t look like an addict. She looks like a nice person who is on her way to work, but no; she’s a ’fiend.

This motherfucker right here is definitely a ’fiend. You can tell by the way he orders his coffee. He has his finger all in the air like he’s got something important to say, but all he’s doing is ordering coffee. A “tall quad with one pump of mocha-drizzle” or some shit. That warrants raising an eyebrow, not a finger.

A caffiend is pretty much any middle-class white person addicted to Starbucks. This definition allows me to conveniently dodge the caffiend status even though I consume at least 63 gallons of Starbucks coffee a year. Yes, I’ve done the math. But here’s the thing: I don’t order my coffee with a fucking finger in the air, so by definition I can’t be a caffiend. Plus I’m not white. To prove my point, look at the two people below:

That’s me and my wife. Guess what’s in my cup?

If you guessed coffee, you’re correct. Wanna know what my wife is drinking? A tall blonde in a grandé cup with 1/3 of the cup filled with soy milk. Unless it’s winter. Then it has to be filled up with heated soy milk, but no foam. She also knows what temperature she wants her soy milk heated. She’s also white, which is an important prerequisite to being a caffiend. I’m obviously not saying that black people don’t drink Starbucks coffee. I’m black and I drink gallons of that shit. But I don’t give a fiddler’s fart about foam and I’ve never once used a fucking fraction when ordering my coffee.

I drink over 63 gallons of coffee per year. But I can assure you that I am not an addict. BTW, that’s my wife and me again. See how she’s judging me? I know. She’s got a lot of nerve, doesn’t she?

Caffeine is addictive and Starbucks has singlehandedly created the most finicky addicts the world has ever seen. Can you even imagine if dopefiends were this fussy about their crack? “Good afternoon. I want to put in an order for two rocks but with only half the baking soda, and not so watered down this time… Cook it at 120° please.”

I complained about the “double-long-in-a-tall-cup” lady on Facebook. My friend, who apparently worked as a barista at one time, tried to simplify things and explained that she was simply trying to order “a double shot expresso but let the water run a little long.” But even that sounds too complicated for a damn cup of coffee, so my friend simplified the order even more: “Basically she wanted a short Americano.” Yeah, much better. But her “short Americano” probably came to $4 or more, which hardly seems worth it. However, a “double long in a tall cup, but I don’t want it to be too watered down, so maybe you should make it a triple. No, keep it double but use only two-thirds of the water because I want it to be a fifth strong but not watered down” sounds like some pretty hi-tech java worth a lot more than just $4. So Starbucks knows what they’re doing, and I guess the double-long lady is just making sure she gets her money’s worth. I, on the other hand, willingly forked over $3 and all I have to show for it is a venti pike. No, sorry, make that a venti blonde. Leave a little room for soy too. Ah, hell with it. No foam, please. See? My wife’s addiction is rubbing off on me.

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