I'm OK with Starbucks, even though I speak a strange and exotic language that none of their 'baristas' can understand. While everyone is speaking Starbuckeze, with their double-caf half-caf espresso-latte-chinos in vente doble grande size...in comes the stranger from a distant land who goes to the counter and asks for a 'large coffee'...which is greeted by an immediate cessation of all conversation in the restaurant, except for a lone cricket that somehow got inside and starts his song, and a bunch of doe-in-the-headlight stares back at the stranger who just spoke some weird unintelligble gibberish. One of the brave baristas tries to communicate with the stranger with the strange tongue..."lahr-jay cough-eee? My name is Aimee. Do you want frappucino? Vente or grande?" And the stranger looks at them with a raised brow, obviously not understanding their language, and trying desperately to communicate some jumble of foreign thoughts...raising his voice, he spits out his odd musical grunt again: LARGE... COFFEE!". And again, the doe-eyes stare back at him...while someone finally steps on that annoying cricket. Somehow after desperate minutes of mimery, the two sides come to an agreement, and the baristas finally settle on handing over the simplest concoction they can think of in hopes of satisfying the stranger, giving him a grande Pike Place roast. Luckily it seems to work, as the stranger looks relieved and his stress level drops as he eyes what appears to be what he wanted. And they all wipe their brows with sighs of relief as the foreigner leaves, the conversation picks up, the cricket remains are cleaned off the floor, and they all hope the strange man returns to his strange land and doesn't come back in their store again.