My husband refuses to speak Starbucks. While I found it frustrating at first, since I am fluent and enjoy practicing my language skills, it’s now kind of funny. My drink: a grande-soy-no water-chai. His drink: a grande-triple-nonfat-latte. When my husband orders, it’s a medium-chai-made-with-soy-milk-and-no-water and a medium-skinny-latte-with-an-extra-shot. The baristas correct him ruthlessly, every time, with me snickering in the background. To me, ordering in Starbucks is easy and rolls off the tongue, since that’s where the majority of my chai ordering has been. For him, he worked through college as a barista at an independent coffee shop (truly yummy coffee, and my many thanks to our friends Matt & Kelly for the caffeine that kept me going through college) and has a festering dislike for the man, aka Starbucks, and Starbuckese makes absolutely no sense to him.