I am a Woman With the Starbucks Bathroom Code

Advice to First-Time Visitors & Toilet Refugees  ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ​ ​ ​ ​ What's Up, Smokeshow! I'm Ash Ambirge and you're subscribed to Selfish Forever: A humor column about living & working from anywhere—and how to find unconventional happiness in a conventional world. ​ ​ ​ I am a Woman With the Starbucks Bathroom Code Advice to First-Time Visitors & Fellow Toilet Refugees ​ If you come from a small town, good luck: there is no instruction manual for ordering from Starbucks, the legendary classist coffee shop you’ve only ever seen on TV, where you will be judged by your speed, ability to pronounce “grande” like a medieval Spanish overlord, determination to add a bottle of water to your order even after they’ve rang you up, and your hat wear. (A baseball hat is perfectly fine, but only if you also have a $40 gel manicure. If you do not have a $40 gel manicure, please seek the nearest Target location and purchase a cream-colored cable knit beanie made from 100% acrylic. It is uncomfortable and your scalp will itch, but that’s the price of being a middle-aged suburban dream. Under no circumstances should you wear a bucket hat, which will immediately classify you as poor.) Fortunately I, a small-town girl who spent years studying Starbucks aboriginals in the wild, have taken the liberty of providing some useful guidelines. With any luck, your first visit to Starbucks will prove to be a meaningful cross-cultural experience that will forever shape your future, your thinking, and your ability to swan into upper-crust institutions with the confidence of a senior Texas oil executive named Tim. ​ - A lesson in etiquette Despite the universal urge to have a massive bowel movement the moment you step foot inside (something about the lighting), resist the temptation. Starbucks bathrooms are outfitted with iron-clad chastity locks, and you will feel like a two-bit burglar if you get there and pull on the door and are denied. There is nothing more shameful than not knowing the bathroom door code—especially if other people are watching. It can be hard to know next steps: do you simply walk away, defeated, like a pathetic loser? Or do you wait patiently for another person to come by who knows the code and then mortifyingly ask them to let you in? (Pro tip: say it in your high-pitched phone voice so they will know you are An Upstanding Citizen Who Deserves to Go to the Bathroom.) Fortunately, there is another way, and that way is to rigorously clench your buttcheeks to the count of fifteen (minutes) while standing in line and then, once at the register, purchase a mass-produced blueberry muffin. The code will then be printed on a slim piece of paper and placed in your palm. Do not make it obvious you have been given the code. Just casually place the code into your pocket like you weren’t waiting the entire time just to use their bathroom like the toilet con artist you are. Then, casually saunter back down the hall, pretending to look at mugs along the way. By the time you finally make it to the bathroom, there will be seven people waiting in line before you. Look awkwardly down at all of their shoes and feel powerless. ​ ​ - A lesson in cultural assimilation ​Speaking of lines, whenever you get in one, you should frown. The frown shows people that you are busy. A foot tap and occasional glance at your watch is also recommended, especially if you are in front of someone wearing a suit. This will show camaraderie. It will also tell that motherfucker to stop breathing down your neck, because you are a very serious person with very serious rules about close-range respiration, despite the fact you’re wearing duck-print leggings. ​ ​ - A lesson in sophistication ​Do not wear duck-print leggings. I know we small-town folks were deprived of these judicious doctrines, but ducks are only sophisticated if printed on linen wallpaper (in which case they are not called “ducks,” but “cranes”). Now, if you had cranes on your pants, then people might think they are from Vineyard Vines—and if you are wearing Vineyard Vines, you are a king. Remember: he who wears clothing branded with whales, alligators, or horses are middle-class suburban celebrities with a drinking problem. (Desirable.) Just don’t wear ducks. Ducks are trash. ​ ​ - A lesson in self-expression ​“Tall” means “small.” “Grande” means “I have body image issues preventing me from ordering the big one.” “Venti” means “I am an underpaid office worker who is bitter and unappreciated and this is the only place where I feel empowered to make bold decisions.” (Recommended workaround: order an espresso. Just don’t forget to call it a “doppio,” which is Italian for “double,” which is obviously the way they say it in the grand palatial coffee shop that is Starbucks. [Please be sure to study the correct sizing.](=)) ​ ​ - A lesson in asserting yourself ​At some point in line, you’ll be forced to make a difficult decision: do you aggressively peek past the people in front of you to see what’s in the cold items display? Or do you inch forward slowly, unable to see what’s for sale until the VERY last second when it is now your turn to order and you look like a flustered, chaotic, deranged piece of shit? My advice: never do anything that will compromise the integrity of your frown. Maintain your frown at all costs—even if you feel like an incompetent fifth grader. Nobody can take away the power of the frown, so long as YOU do not give up the power of the frown. STAY STRONG. ​ ​ - A lesson in perseverance ​Everyone in line behind you will seethe as you take the spotlight as The Person At The Register™️. They will shuffle. They will glare. They will bore through the back of your neck with the full might of their beady little eyes as they become increasingly agitated being kept from their excruciating lives. Do not be intimidated: you have all the jurisdiction here. You can go as slow or as fast as you’d like, but only within a 7-second window. You must not, under any circumstance, take more than 7 seconds to order, during which you are expected to perform an acceptable social pleasantry, utter a nervous “uhhhhh,” mentally berate yourself for forgetting the exact wording of your order, finally spit out something resembling human speech, feel stupid when you forget to specify the size (you knew this one!), become flustered and say, “You know what, just give me a latte,” fumble around with your debit card, suddenly forget your pin, and finally shuffle helplessly to the right, where you and everyone else who has attempted to speak with confidence in public has failed. ​ ​ - A lesson in finding yourself ​Finally, when they ask you what your name is so they can write it on your cup and make you feel like the visiting dignitary you are, you will suddenly feel naked. Exposed. Self-conscious. What is your name, and how do you pronounce it?! What if nobody else in line likes your name? WHAT IF YOU SAY IT WEIRD??? Will people know you said it weird? Why are you saying it weird?!?! Do they know how to spell it? Should you tell them? Would THAT be weird? Are you weird? Is this your weird era? Or is Starbucks weird? How do you handle such delicate matters? And now that we’re onto the topic of your ever-looming existential crisis, one must know: are you going to be a small-town girl dreaming of duck-print leggings, or a big-city sophisticate, dreaming of crane wallpaper? This, right here, is the moment of truth. All decisions come down to this very moment. Will you be Alexandra, or Alex? Wear a baseball hat, or a bucket hat? Get gel manicures or have the hands of a werewolf? Add a bottle of water to your order EVEN AFTER YOU’VE BEEN RUNG UP…or be wistfully cast away into the shadows of society? These are the questions we must ask ourselves. These are the questions that will define us forever. At the very least, it’ll give you plenty to think about as you wait in line for the bathroom (again). Now that you’re next, you can finally pull that tiny, regaled piece of paper from your pocket. Wave it around. Casually drag it across your lips. Wink at it. Blow it kisses. Show all of the peons behind you that you are a woman in the know. You are a woman of the world. You are a woman who can handle herself—come rain, come shits, come Starbucks. You are a goddess with no bounds. You are someone in charge. And forevermore, you will hold that power. Nobody can take it away from you—nobody! You are LIMITLESS! You are boundless! You are supreme! ​ Because you are a woman with the Starbucks bathroom code. ​ And everybody knows that a woman like that? ​ Is free. ​ ​ ​ Thanks for reading, you fantastic tit vulture! What weird and/or mortifying Starbucks stories do you have? And, DO YOU MOVE AROUND PEOPLE TO PEEK AT THE COLD ITEMS DISPLAY? Or wait until you’re fumbling next to the register?! (Personally, I wait behind people like a chump. Then again, I despise their sandwiches anyway. And their coffee. And their eggs. Maybe I’m just a detestable person in general.) You???​ ​ [Leave a Comment ]( ​ (I'm using Substack for this so we can be creeps in the comments together. Come say hiiiiiii. 👋🏻) ​ ​ A humor column about living & working from anywhere— and how to find unconventional happiness in a conventional world ​ WITH ASH AMBIRGE ​​ + Unpopular opinions about crustaceans + New ideas about ways to earn a living that don't require you to be a sucker + How to actually enjoy your life while working less and visiting Sweden more + A real zest for extreme pearl wearing + Favoritism for bars with scary-ass mafia pool rules (MY QUARTERS WERE THERE, SON) + Zero ambition to be a good girl who bakes casseroles & smiles politely + BUT ALSO: a creepy affection for small-town Main Streets & freshly-mowed lawns + Currently searching for the most livable places in the world + Unbridled enthusiasm for storage units and guys named Bob + Deep fear of waking up and not having any water on the nightstand + Entirely unbalanced accounts of everything, including my morals + At least three Freudian slips around my true feelings about bracelets (They make your arms look like baby wiener sausages at an Italian wedding) P.S. Have you read [my book on living & working differently]() yet? It's a real blast to have on the coffee table when the in-laws come over. ​ ​ ​[Select Newsletter Topics]( | [Unsubscribe from All Forever]( 177 Huntington Ave Ste 1703, Boston, MA 02115 ​