Why should I pay $45 for a cup of coffee? Do I really need a cookie larger than my head? What about a rice krispy block bigger than my shoe? I could always just get a bottle of juice that’s half the size but double the price of the same juice in a grocery store. How does Starbuck’s stay in business?
Is it really good coffee? Arguable. Is it the post-high school barista behind the counter that has encyclopedic knowledge of coffee, grinds, and flavored syrup? No, they make me feel stupid. Sometimes I think they make up words just to see if anyone notices.
“Welcome to Starbucks, would you like to try our new Cafe Ochorina with cinnamon or a Triple Rumplemint Frappamochaspresso?”
“Um… ok.”
“And what size would you like that?”
“Medium.”
“Sir, our sizes are “piney”, “umbligo”, and “Vesuvius”
“Is one of those medium?”
“You’ll have to leave, sir. Try the Dunkin Donuts around the corner.”
It must be the room.
Something about the dark wood and husky green coloring of those Starbuck’s interiors seems to be a magnet for people who have to much free time and income. I was wandering around a book store and meandered into the attached Starbucks. Starbucks seem to latch on to popular chain bookstores like ticks. Nothing makes someone want to buy coffee they can’t afford more than buying books they’ll never read. Unless, of course, you plop down on the bench in the coffee shop and just start reading away.
The Starbucks I saw, and like every other one I’ve seen, was full of people. Two of them were paying customers. Most had been paying customers at some points in their lives which seemed to entitle them to free wi-fi and unlimited hang out time. It was standing room only in there. Pretty busy for 10.30pm on a weeknight. I thought maybe it was a post-book club party or maybe some sort of social scene. It wasn’t. The Starbucks was full of individuals ignoring each other.
At one end of the bar were two Asian girls, that might have been 15, having a conversation. They weren’t actually speaking, just mouthing words since both were plugged into their respective iPods and rocking to portable tunes. Each also had a laptop. One was on the Hello Kitty homepage and the other on a CNN story about Japanese gangs. I wondered if the rest of the bar had other stereotypes to see.
There was a six person table filled with six laptops and and six people huddled over the screens casting a sickly white-blue glow on their faces. I’d seen this before in computer gamers… all huddled around blowing something up or saving a princess. These guys weren’t cooperating or fighting or interacting in anyway. Despite the shared space, each was in their own little world. The guy on the end, who didn’t like me looking over his shoulder, was writing poetry.
“I am a tree, I am a tree. Look at me. Being a tree.”
The poem was 52 pages long but that was the gist of it. He was listening to an iPod as well, but only put in one earpiece… maybe he was expecting a call. The lady next to him was reading her e-mail outloud to herself. I thought she might have been talking to me and when I responded she looked horrified and told me to mind my own business. She then continued to read her e-mail aloud. Apparently she’s a guidance counselor.
The guy at the other end of the table was asleep and his laptop battery long dead. For a few minutes I wondered if he, too, had expired. He scratched the spot on his head where hair used to live and continued napping. The other people at the table were less interesting although I’m sure the scripts that each was writing were awesome. I’m sure George Lucas will be excited to know that a budding writer on the east coast is writing a new screenplay for a movie he’s already filmed. Similarly, horror fans might like to find that a new scary novel called “The Brightening” is on the way. It’s about a guy named Nick Jackelson who goes to Colorado and stays in a big hotel that’s haunted. The last creative piece might never come to be. The final author was just staring blankly at a title screen that said, “Larry Potter: Wizard Boy of Washington”. He had body odor.
The rest of the Starbucks went on like that. Lots of individuals doing their thing. I wondered why they bothered. The internet doesn’t rise and set in Starbucks. They weren’t going buck wild on the $7.50 scones. They all had coffee cups long bereft of liquid. Why stay there? Why not just keep to your mom’s basement or your dorm room?
Maybe all of these people enjoyed hanging out in a place that celebrated a poor “Apple to Common Sense” ratio. Maybe.
Maybe they wanted to form a club unofficially. It had members but no rules, officers, or policies. Attendance was optional, the purpose was vague. I think that’s how the Republican Party got started.
Maybe they just really liked the smell of coffee. Maybe they all had crushes on the barista. I have no idea.
All that I know is that if you want to go to a Starbucks and sit down at a table with your overpriced, burnt coffee you’d better get there early. Faster than squatters at a Buffet show, the Starbucks regulars will descend on the place like locusts with hair gel and iPads… destroying all available seating in their path.
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hmm… who doesn’t like to go buck wild on a poppy seed scone?