We Don't Live Here Anymore

I bet you don't know the difference between a latte and a cappuccino.  I bet you think you do, but you don't.  It's not your fault.  Starbucks is a funny place.  On the surface, they place too much emphasis on what we, the customers, want and how hard they work to give us exactly the right combination of syrupy sweet service with a supposedly renowned coffee catalogue (which has been ripped apart in the media more times than I can recall); but don't you DARE try walking into a Starbucks without being at least moderately well versed in the menu now made known to the point of parody by pop culture.

You'd think for the biggest and most made-fun-of coffee chain in the world it would be acceptable to walk in and request "a medium latte, uhh, with some caramelly stuff and, uhh, whipped cream?" (having worked at Starbucks for 6 years I can tell you this concoction is not found on the menu).  Surely you've been living under a rock if you don't know the sizes or the makings of a latte or cappuccino (less foam/more foam--same amount of espresso in each!).  There's a conspiracy to keep the perfect cappuccino a secret because only me and 5 other people on the planet know how to make them, and we all worked at the now defunct 8th and University store. 

Ten years ago, when crackheads were strolling in on the daily, and we used clear garbage bags so we would see the needles, we were still teaching people the ins and outs of the coffee lexicon.  Simply asking for a "cup of coffee" didn't throw your barista for a loop the size of Manhattan.  Just this month myself and my boyfriend, visiting from New York, paid a visit to Intelligentsia in Venice, home of the $6.50 cup of specialty brewed coffee.  As I stood in line marveling at how I'd just paid $4.50 for about 3 ounces of foam and a shot, I was at least comforted by the fact that I wasn't made to feel like an asshole for requesting just that. 

We've all fallen victim to that bitchy barista.  The one who giggles or smirks if you don't PERFORM your drink name to the point of Broadway.  To be honest I find it all very sad.  Starbucks is no longer made for the individual.  It's a machine that got oiled too well and is moving too fast to tend to all the toys on the conveyor belt.  Even as I type this, I am wincing as a woman changes her order after her cup has already hit the bar.  SCREEECH...It's too long a line to be changing things up like that! 

I miss the days when everything didn't have to mirror something bigger, something better.  But I will always find comfort in the fact that years ago, before Starbucks became the "rich white professional's internet and toilet service" (to quote the Gothamist) it was just me and a bunch of dope black chicks making the most kickass drinks and giving the best service you could ever hope for, at Starbucks or anywhere.