The Art of Espresso

We’re taking the time to perfect the art of espresso. Great espresso requires practice. That’s why we’re dedicating ourselves to honing our craft. We’re always striving for perfection and look forward to serving you a truly exceptional espresso beverage.
We will be closed from 5:30-9:15 pm for training.
-Sign posted at Union Square West Starbucks

On Tuesday, February 26, 2008, Starbucks stores across the globe closed their doors for three hours at 5:30pm local time to conduct “Art of Espresso Training”. This unprecedented and historic closing graced the screens of local and national news channels and was written up in a range of newspapers from The New York Post to the New York Times (I’m located in New York).

Upon hearing of this unimaginable event, I decided to conduct the following experiment:

Disguised as a bystander, I will station myself outside Starbucks on the west side of Union Square in Manhattan from the hours of 18:45-19:00. I will tally numbers of customers, note responses, and intervene only when necessary.

As any trained scientist would do I wrote a hypothesis:

Public displays of upper middle class rage and violence triggered by Starbucks withdrawal provoke widespread urban chaos rivaling events such as Rodney King, 9/11 and Katrina. Subsequently, looters take to the streets within a three block radius of every store (coverage of the entire developed world), stock markets around the globe crash, and Obama, unable to quell the calamity, drops out of the presidential race, catalyzing recession, depression and inevitably, the apocalypse.

Upon arrival, I note a very dimly lit and empty storefront. The 8.5 X 11 sign (containing aforementioned corporate quote) is taped on the inside of the door directly above the handle. I take cover from the rain, stand inconspicuously in the corner, covertly clutch my Moleskine and wait. It is exactly 18:45 hours.

My observations are as follows:

• Exactly 20 customers stop and attempt entry in 15 minutes. Countless others glance in but do not pause. Exactly 14 of 20 tug multiple times on the locked door.

• Racial break up of these 20 customers is roughly equal to that of a latte: 1 part Caucasian, 1 part African American and 1 part Asian.

• I am compelled to inform 5 customers of the international closures

• 7 customers reacted verbally to the sign and/or information I provided

• “Strange”

• “Ugh”

• “Hmmph” (smile and shrug)

• “Damn” (smile and shrug)

• “It’s just coffee, do they need to perfect it?”

• Woman to man: “Oh, let’s go”. Man to woman “Where?” Woman to man “I don’t know”. They walk away slowly in the rain.

• "Apparently they are working on the originality of Starbucks coffee”.

On the L-train home, I take note of the exhaustive list of variables that could have altered my findings.

• Rain (While a few freezing sprinkles would never deter a die-hard Starbucks addict from quenching her thirst on an hot acidic beverage, rain might prevent an amateur from venturing out during unfavorable environmental conditions).

• Time (While lacking quantitative evidence, logic tells me that most Americans do not need to quell the their caffeine addiction at 7pm as they would at 7am).

• Lack of control group is irrelevant because my work is, and always will be, flawless.

I arrive home and start to analyze my findings. God, I could really, really use some coffee.

DATA ANALYSIS:

I am pleasantly surprised to have witnessed such calm and restrained reactions to the Starbucks store closures. The exhibition of such widespread nonchalance, quite frankly, restored my faith in humanity and gave me hope for the lives of my unborn children. The closest I got to violence was the shrug of a few pairs of indifferent shoulders, and the closest I got to verbal assault was a chipper “damn”.

I’ve seen more harrowing behavior in a PG-13 movie.

I was also happy to learn that Starbucks patronage is not limited to white people. Apparently, people of all colors enjoy half-caf venti soy mochas too.

In conducting such a sociological experiment on such short notice, it was difficult to ditch my bias and submerge my own personal feelings about Starbucks. While I’d be lying if I said that I had never graced my “local” Starbucks with my presence, or that I didn’t have a personal drink preference, (tall skinny latte--see, I even speak Starbuck!), I’d rather support my local hipster coffee house. I’d rather gamble on the taste of a potentially inconsistent coffee and support the little guy (or the surly half-Asian girl sporting skinny jeans and side pony tail as is the case in Williamsburg) in their fight against the big guns. While sometimes it feels futile, at the end of the day, “supporting my local business” gives me the feeling that I’m doing my bit and helps me to sleep at night.

Whilst I am so inclined to blame Starbucks and like corporations for taking a big steaming dump on the underdog and for the degeneration of, um, the world, I guess the evidence of my airtight experiment proves that the Starbucks of the world are really only a symptom of a larger problem.

Americans can’t read.

I bore witness to scores of New Yorkers, who, upon arriving to a dimly lit and deserted storefront displaying a sign that clearly explained the closure, yanked violently at the door as if trying to free their first-born child from under the wheels of their Honda Pilot. These college educated consumers looked to me, the sly fauxciologist cowering in the corner, for help. “There’s no such thing as an innocent bystander” they silently scowled at me. As if I was single-handedly accountable for the closure of roughly 7200 Starbucks branches spanning the globe. I quietly intervene to verbalize what is actually clearly articulated on the door.

The joke is all too blatant: to simply place an order at Starbucks one must essentially learn a new language. Tall, Grande, Venti, Skinny etc. Starbucks forever altered the linguistic landscape of consumerism, and as a result, their branding became visual, palatable and now audible. It’s quite brilliant actually.

What is problematic, however, is that while New Yorkers clearly excel at commercial literacy (i.e. the capacity to quickly order a complicated beverage) our resulting inextirpable addiction to caffeine only exacerbates our collective inability to read [insert cliché ‘hooked on phonics’ infomercial here]. But we have convinced ourselves as Pavlov did his dogs that our mental capacity hinges on our scoring a quick fix of joe. It’s quite a vicious cycle that makes us I can’t reed good.

With Starbucks temporarily eclipsed from the picture, the American public almost had enough time to go cold turkey: to suffer the withdrawal symptoms (the headaches, the shakes, the temptation to switch to booze), to overcome our addiction and to address the larger problem at hand.

But alas, at this very moment, Dunkin' Donuts (conveniently located half a block from every Starbucks in 38 States) sweeps in, capitalizes on our vulnerabilities and offers us 99-cent lattes.

Hmmm…I wonder if they have the new Bob Dylan.

-Queen Vagine (and her off-shore editorial staff)