Jamba Juice II

Like a lot of folks, I have vowed to eat healthier and lighter in 2014, so this has found me making more trips to Jamba Juice. To be fair, I don’t hate Jamba Juice with the red-hot intensity that I hate Starbucks, but I still hate it.

90% of the youngins who work there are fine. But the workers who actually work are in back making the smoothies. That leaves the newbie to deal with the public. Granted, that has to sort of suck when you consider so many of the people around Carmel Valley are so wildly entitled, rude and consider themselves far more important than they are.

But why not at least try and interact and have a little fun?

So this clearly-does-not-want-to-be-there 18 something guy named Cooper is mechanically reading his routine from the computer. As annoying as it is to hear young women speak in Valley-girl-speak, it is even worse when it is a guy. Especially a guy named Cooper.

Regardless of their response, Cooper shoots through his five questions:

Can I take your order?

What size would you like? (Only Cooper, in his valley-speak, says Wuuuhhhhat ssssssssiiiuuuze whuuuuould you liiiiiike?)

Would you like a boost with that?

Would you care for any of our delicious baked goods (Their baked goods take pretension to a new level. No, I do not want a rosemary and nutmeg cherry biscuit-pretzel, thanks)

Would you care for our hot steel-cut oatmeal?

What is your name?

Oh. It is so on. From Cooper’s first question I say;

“Surf-rider, original size, vitamin boost, nothing else and my name is Alex.” That should take care of the five questions, right? 

Wrong.

After I repeat this phrase three more times, the fourth time, when Cooper asks if I want any delicious baked goods, like their acorn, bird seed and cinnamon scones, as friendly as possible, I say;

“No, that is why I have said nothing else the three times I have also said Surf-rider, original, vitamin boost and my name is Alex.”

By this time the girl making the smoothies has been following this amusing routine and we exchange bemused; "Can you believe this guy?" looks. I'm not mad, it's funny. 

Cooper now looks at me, truly annoyed and says with a straight face:

“Caaaaaahhhhhhn I get yourrrrrrrrrrr naaaaaaaaaame?”

Now the girl making the smoothies has had it, she threw her scooper into the sink with a clang and yells;

"Dude. Are you serious? He has told you his name is Alex four times."

Poor Cooper had the most shocked and hurt look on his face. He had no idea I had said my name four times.