Screw the Box of Chocolates, Life Is Like A Starbucks Straw

Whenever I go to Starbucks, after I order my drink, I always grab a straw (my drinks always require straws because they're always cold because I sweat profusely if I drink anything hot) from their little sugar/milk/condiment island while I wait, in order to maximize efficiency. Obviously. But at this one Starbucks I frequent, they always provide a straw when they serve you your drink, so I always end up returning to the aforementioned island to put the extra straw back.

Finally, after this specific Starbucks provided the straw with my drink in enough consecutive trials, I decided to not take a straw in advance of receiving my drink, in order to, once again, maximize efficiency.

So, what happened? Of course, that was the first time they didn't provide a straw with the drink. Foiled! Naturally, my trust totally betrayed, I took a straw in advance the following trip to this Starbucks, only to be provided with a straw, forcing me to once again return the extra straw. So then, I figured the one time they did not provide the straw was the anomaly, and the next time I felt comfortable not preemptively snatching a straw, only to once again have the proverbial rug pulled out from under me when they didn't provide the straw (I even thought maybe it was some inside, practical joke among the employees, because I'm always paranoid that people in service positions are constantly fucking with their customers in order to stave off boredom, but I paid extra-close attention, and if they were doing this intentionally then they should be nominated for Academy Awards, or something).

Anyway, it finally occurred to me, after taking yet another superfluous straw, that my Starbucks straw experience is a metaphor for life: in the Starbucks of life, always get your own straw, because as soon as you take it for granted and start expecting one, it won't be there. In fact, if you take a straw, and they give you one too, don't put the extra straw back. Keep it. Just in case. Because one time, they ran out of the long straws, and I so wished I had kept even just one of those many straws I'd returned to the island because I ended up having to drink a venti through a short straw. Yeah. I know.