Is i t Really Only 'Just Coffee'

No. It really isn't. And for a number of reasons, some of which make us look like money hungry capitalist oil barrons trying to squeeze blood from a stone, and some of which that make our customers look like hopped up junkie addicts trying to get something for nothing. The irony of this, is, of course, that on both sides of the fence is a shared mantra, repeated over and over again as the day draws long or the need for caffeine pressures us into acting like retards ...

'It's only coffee'

Oh, how I wish that were true.

If it were only just coffee ... or cream based blended beverages ... or iced teas ... or the soul-blood of high priestesses ... customers wouldn't stand in line for upwards of fifteen minutes. they wouldn't suffer the indignity of going through Soup Nazi-esque ordering procedures, nor would they willing choke down our super-fat-saturated snacks or sign over the fifteenth mortgage on their two bedroom bungaloo that overlooks the Pitt River. They wouldn't put up with our strenuous adherence to a completely made up lingo, that, as far as i can tell from my lofty perch on the fence, is designed to do nothing more or less than make the customer feel stupid. they wouldn't, if it was just coffee. but it's not. we're a meme plague, a social and cultural icon now, and one that has invaded the lives and minds of millions of people -and all without the need for advertising. seriously. our advertising budget is slim to none, and i bet you'd be hard pressed to find even one print ad, let alone radio or television. but i digress, as is my usual wont, because it's not about the cultural or social aspects of being a part of the Starbucks Hive Mind that I'm addressing today, but the Junkie Effect. People need our coffee. they tell me every day. they can't function without, and they've tried, like heroin users switching to that sub-classic replacement methadone, to switch to Tim Hortons or McDonald's or whatever else is out there. Tried, and failed, miserably slouching back to my front door with a fistful of dollars for an overpriced drink, the bulk of said proceeds coming nowhere near my pocket, or the pockets of the slave labor camps on the other side of the world. they pony up their hard earned money to get their fix and, because like beer, you really only rent coffee, there's a damned good chance they'll be back before the end of the day, haggard, withdrawn, irritable. God forbid that you should give them one sip less than they ask for, because then they become the other side of the junkie, slipping from the amiable jitterbug shuffling from one foot to the other like they have to pee into the raving lunatic, shouting incoherent threats against everyone in your family. All ... for ... one ... more ... sip.

Oh yeah, it's just coffee to our customers.

And for us, the few, the proud, the stylistically termed 'partners'? Is it really just coffee to us as well?

Not by a fucking longshot. For us, it's about the dollar dollar bills ya'all. Oh sure, we chant the mantra like any good puppets, reminding ourselves not to take our jobs too seriously -wait, how can that be when i live hand to mouth, paycheck to paycheck, penny to penny- and when the line gets gritty and rough and we are beseiged on all sides, we actually mean it for awhile, safe and secure in the knowledge that unlike Enron, our stock portfolios are strong enough to see us through the dark hours. But like i said, it ain't. Might have been once upon a time when a pot smoking, hash-brownie eating hippie started the company up in the seventies, but that Starbucks is a far hue and cry from what it is now. Now we are run by Capitalists born and bred with dollar signs for eyes and when you prick them, they do not bleed the good old red stuff, but an endless tickertape parade of critical stock watches. their dreams are the dreams of variance, labor percentages, customer counts per diem, waste management, and salary caps. they, too, say it's only coffee, but they can afford to say that, and truly mean it. for us, though, the ones serving on the front lines of Junkie Central, it's a whole different story. if we fall behind budget, our labor hours are affected, so we're forced to work harder to provide a level of service that the fiends demand and the SS-esque customer snapshot droids ensure. if we don't meet projected sales goals, the manager's crack-tastique bonus is affected, so he or she or it -depending on how far along the Bean Path this person is- will come down like Thor's mighty hammer. i remember the day our mission statement added the capstone to the mighty monument of Starbucks, and while i'm legally prevented from line-for-line iteration, it bascially says we need to realize we gotta make money if we gonna stick around.

Yeah, it's just coffee all right, at least until someone starts fucking with the bottom line or the urge to fix.

Evilmister, from the fence, from on high, passing judgment ... out.