A couple of things to set straight, before I start on this. First, Dunkin’ Donuts is my favorite coffee. I had a brief fling with Starbucks years ago but, like the similarly named character on Battlestar Galactica, she’s-a just too strong for me.
But I’m begging you, Dunkie’s, stop the upselling at the drivethrough.
Upselling, just for clarification, is the foisting upon an already committed customer the possible purchase of something they have no interest in.
For example, if you’ve been to Best Buy, you’ve had this experience. You get in line with ... oh, let’s say, two D cell batteries. The person at the cash register when (or if) they have a chance to stop talking with the three other blue shirts whose only apparent function is talking to the cashiers, will ask you:
“Would you like to buy the extended warranty on those batteries? It’s $9.99 for the first year, 15.99 for two years --”
You have to butt in; this is pre-programmed and will not stop without pre-emptive action.
“No they’re batteries. They cost $5.99. They’re made to wear out. What could go wrong?”
“Okay, it’s your life.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“Be my guest.”
Now at Dunkie’s, they are not insolent. Pre-programmed, but not insolent.
So, you drive into the drive through. Remember now: you’re going to be talking to a sign.
It begins, the sign speaks:
“Hello welcome to Dunkin’ Donuts. Would you like to try a pumkin fernirevette choc-o-frabr?”
“Excuse me?”
“Hello, welcome to --
“No, I got that part --”
“A pumpkin fernirevette choc-o-frabr?”
“No, I think --”
“Hello welcome to Dunkin --”
“LARGE COFFEE,” speaking into the sign.
I have no idea what a pumpkin fernirevette choc-o-frabr is. I do know this: I do not want it. I came for coffee. Pure, simple.
I love the coffee. Not the market-research generated concoctions that the suits tell the elves in the bakery to whip up.
Just the coffee, please.