Recently I received a package in the mail. It was the size of box of Christmas cards and addressed specifically to me, not to “Resident.” Assuming it was yet another of an endless stream of useless AOL 8000 free hour offers, I went straight to the rubbish with it. But as I was flinging it into the bin, I noticed a familiar symbol and it was not AOL at all. A Pavlovian reflex snatched the Starbucks labeled parcel back out of the trash.
Why was Starbucks sending me mail you ask? Well as the box explained it was a thank you to their best customers. It was a free bag of this years anniversary blend backed with a book of poems featuring poets from countries Starbucks buys beans from. Did it matter to me that Starbucks had my name and address? Was I concerned that they new I was a crack-like customer? Nope. I was giddy about the free coffee and promptly brewed some of The Delicious while enjoying my Surfer’s Path magazine out on the Italian patio where there is currently a bougainvillea in a life-or-death struggle with a pink jasmine.