So you want a quick and fun way to say “hey good to hear from you again” to that girl who disappeared off the face of the Earth for two days over the weekend and now has returned to your Gchat board. But you don’t want to make any big commitments and emailing video clips of monkeys performing scenes from famous films seems totally last week.
So you think, “Hey is there an instant, online way I can buy this gal a caffeinated drink from her favorite reason-to-ditch-the-office for 15 minutes?”
And sure enough, upon inspecting the Starbucks website, there is this king-pin option called the “Starbucks Card eGift.”
So you click on the link, pick a designer backdrop for the card (“Well, I’m not giving her a bonus, it’s not yet Christmas, and nothing says breezy-thinking-of-you like a series of various brown shaded leaves”), choose the card’s balance (“$10 says I want you to send me a screen shot of your cleavage and entering the exact price of a drink, say $3.50, screams can’t-afford-this, so I think $5 is comfortably ambiguous”), and then enter a cute, but not-too-complex message: “Hey Gurl, Go take out your hatred for selling out your principles for a job in Corporate Cube Wasteland with a pumpkin spice latte!~Dunstan.”
Success! Then smugly you enter your credit card information, and hit “send.”
Five minutes later, you message her: “Get your treat yet?!!”
Surprisingly, she responds: “What are you talking about?”
So sheepish, you freak out, and realize that maybe you entered her email wrong or gave the wrong credit card again.
You repeat the earlier steps, this time with a different message: “Go have a drink on me! Sneak out when your boss isn’t watching! Lame-Os! P.S. You pretty.”
It’s not quite as poetic, but at this point, you’ve spent the last 35 minutes at work on this stupid endeavor.
Unfortunately, it’s the same response: “Nope, I see nothing in my inbox.”
Damnit. So, now naturally, you angrily dial up Starbucks corporate.
A woman picks up. She explains that “Yes, it appears Mr. McGill that you’ve now sent out two gift cards. She should have enough coffee for the day! Hahahhuhuhu!”
“Yes! But she’s not received any! What kind of scam is this?!”
Tersely, the woman passes you onto a higher-up, who is equally as incompetent: “You don’t need to yell at me! It’s just a gift card?!”
“But whatthefuck! I’m not one of those people! Here we are in 2011 with me wasting my workday on a technology problem that feels so 2002! This should be a simple exchange of information and there is NO GIFT CARD IN HER INBOX!”
So another transfer, another “This conversation MAY be monitored,” which at this stage feels like a legitimate threat. So you play cool. And the corporate monkey reciprocates: “Hey, Dunstan, we’ll fix you up. Oh aha, how about we try another email addy?”
And you know what? It works. Except then he utters this: “Cute message, man. She’ll love it.”
Wait?! You can see my card?! Fuccccckkkkkk!
So you now feel naked that some dude a thousand miles away on a phone is watching you with like X-ray vision at your pathetic attempt at interwebs flirtation. You half expect him to next say, “So you expect her to give you head after this man or what?!”
Thankstogod, he doesn’t. And it appears a happy ending when five minutes later you get a “Oh yes, Dunstan. Awww! Thanks. Sweet of you…wait…I now have four gift cards. I think I have like $40 worth of Starbucks, err thanks I guess…”
Noooo!!! What circle of hell have I entered!!!???
It’s now nearly noon and your big scheme to swoop down and give some gentlemanly pick-me-up has completely backfired because the girl now thinks you’re some overeager boy scout who thinks he can purchase online sex by wiring women underground coffee money. It’s not supposed to be this way. And now you’ll never get that screen shot.