There is a harmony about the place, an inexplainable quality. I literally hadn’t been in a coffee shop in years. The employees rocking the dramatic headsets caught me off guard, each one it seemed should be shouting instructions at a pilot, not brewing up a cappacino. Ordering coffee is like a language unto itself, and I realized how unprepared I was as I listened to customers ahead of me in line order extravagantly, using words I had never heard before. I went with the hot chocolate.
When I did muster the courage to order, I noted how the smile of the girl taking my order seemed so sincere, like there was nothing she’d rather be doing that getting me my grande hot chocolate. Such a far cry from what you usually get from fast food joints, whose employees’ eyes are tired, and whose smiles are those who have served too many fries, robotic.
As we sat down to set up shop, I started to take the place in. It had a very distinct style. Unique artwork was plastered all around with no explanation or cohesion. One, a painting of a depression-era building, near collapse, caption-less, next to it, an upbeat collage of bright colors.
There was a certain buzz about the air. The anticipation of caffeine junkies getting their fix, white noise meshing with the soft acoustic music that filled the air, as though people would hear this. No ear was naked, each branding their very own pair of Steve Jobs brand white earbuds, drinking the apple kool-aid. And why not? I was just as guilty as the rest of them, and without hesitation slipped mine in and hit shuffle. I was there for the long haul.
I felt insanely productive. I felt at home. After about 20 minutes, however, my ADD got the best of me and I started to people watch. It was like the coffee shop brought out an inner person some people did not know they had. They exuberantly and feverishly talked with their hands in between sips. Mundane topics seemed so much more intellectual as they bounced off the brightly colored walls that jutted out at random places.
And there I sat for hours on end, entertaining myself as I watched the air traffic controllers whip up their elaborate perky concoctions as others studied, talked, laughed, and consumed. The constant buzz of activity and restlessness willed me on as I stared blankly at my notes, Starbucks making a believer out of me.
Contrary to popular belief Hillary Rodham Clinton is not a Starbucks employee... yet.
