Starbucks

A large purple chair slowly swallows me while caffeine rushes through the blood stream of my nervous body, my foot quickly and involuntarily twitching back and forth while Frankie Vallie wails over the in store radio “...I love you baby...and if it's quite alright, I need you baby...” I take another sip of very over-roasted, slightly over-priced Arabica coffee as my eyes scan the room: Two business men talk over a laptop and a legal pad. A crying woman covers her face with her hands while the man next to her reaches over and speaks hushed cliché consolations, “...I'm sorry...I really care about you...I never wanted it to be like this...” A young stylish guy—who seems to have spent an inordinate amount of time trying to look like a disheveled rock star—sits behind a Macbook Pro and adjusts his white earbuds while shaking his finger rhythmically – perhaps in time with the track he is editing for his band. 

Starbucks is a strange environment. It's a place where people make up as well as break up, where people enjoy community and fellowship while others experience isolation and loneliness. The modern coffee house (which, in the suburbs, is basically limited to Starbucks) is America's third space (not home, not work, other place). In England they have pubs (short for “public house) where people meet up or unwind in the evenings. In American it seems we mostly have bars, which are usually not as inviting or friendly as pubs, and we meet up for caffeine and sugar in the evenings.

I am not too fond of Starbucks coffee, but at least three or four times a week I visit one of the half dozen Starbucks locations less than 10 miles from my house. Why? Caffeine addiction and habit are two reasons, but mostly it's because “Sure! Let's meet up for coffee next week.” Starbucks is the common meeting spot. Meetings with church friends, work friends, old friends, and my weekly Bible study group all take place at one of the ubiquitous green monster's many locations. Furthermore, the bearable (and sometimes genuinely good) music, the predictable (if burnt and mediocre) coffee, the amazingly addictive cake donut, and the familiarity of my favorite reading chair (sort of) are all parts of the song sung by the siren (perhaps the one in the logo) to draw me in.

When people see me drinking out of a Starbucks cup, I often worry that they are making certain assumptions. Mostly that I paid $4/5 for my drink, and that I go to Starbucks everyday. This is because I assume these very things about the people I see with Starbucks cups. The Starbucks cup seems to be a symbol of consumerism and waste (even if the cup is partly made from recycled fibers). I often want to speak out in defense against the silent critic, the stranger watching me drink out of my 8 oz (short) paper cup. “I actually almost never buy a drink over $2. This drink I'm holding now actually only cost $1.63. And I only go about four times a week. I bet you buy a 20 oz Diet Coke ($1.58) everyday you pious jerk” Honestly, I usually don't have a well of hatred for strangers (or really anyone), but my point is illustrated.

Starbucks is an interesting part of our world. I could talk further about it (the culture of employee interaction between different stores, some of the silly policies, etc.), but I will end here.