ANDERSONVILLE — Shelby Croslen, 43, was having one of the worst days of her life. It started out like any other Saturday. Baggu bag stuffed with library books, custom RBG mask secured, and Chacos on her feet, she felt ready to enjoy her weekend morning routine of “living large while shopping local.” Her words. Stolling up Clark, the wind in her hair, Croslen congratulated herself on being so much better than all those people that shop at Am*zon.
Then, the unthinkable happened. Idle chit-chat by the oat milk pitcher lead to a moral breakdown.
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“They’re a chain, originally from Philadelphia,” Croslen overheard a bespectacled and tattooed asymmetrically-haired person reveal. “They have a bunch of locations all throughout the country.”
Croslen almost dropped her $7 Oat Draft.
“I supported them simply because they weren't St*rbucks, how could they do this to me? Was the homey flair of the individual ceramic plates all an elaborate ruse? Those baristas know my name and the scores of my daughter’s mini-golf league! Surely they wouldn’t just work for a faceless, far-off entity?”
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We attempted to console Croslen and had our researchers on staff investigate how it could be possible for a person to speak an asterisk, but she shrugged us off.
“You know what, I don’t need this, I’m taking my business to Dollop.”
We followed up with Croslen for an update after going AWOL for over 5 months after our initial interview. We found her holed up in the Peruvian mountains, eating raw coffee beans straight off the plants because, “you can’t get more local than that, goddamn it.”
