Corporate Coffee

Perhaps I am one of the only people in the world that doesn’t like Starbucks. Its new store in Geneva is full, although I notice that despite the sign that anything can be “taken away” I have yet to observe someone walked out sipping a coffee. Nor have I seen Starbuck garbage in the street. But then the “multi-tasking” of drinking and eating on the street as you walk someplace is not European. Depending on where you are, it is considered anywhere from strange to rude.

I have gone into Starbucks to be polite because people I am with have wanted to go. I have disliked their chichi flavours, Styrofoam or plastic cups and the idea whatever I have should be drunk or eaten as fast as possible and leave. Likewise, I don’t want to wait in line, I want to be served and I want someone else to clean up after me. Why should I save them on their labour costs? Maybe I by cleaning up after myself I am even keeping someone from holding a job, albeit a badly paying one.

Saying that their hot chocolate and mint isn’t too bad, but why in God’s name would I order a combination dreamed up in some corporate kitchen thousands of miles away here when less than a three minute walk from the Starbucks, I can get an Auer hot chocolate, which is mixed in the kitchen behind the tea room and is one of the best hot chocolates I have ever tasted? The treat is added to by its mass unavailability.

Likewise I want to have my tea or chocolate in place where the décor is original, I can get the newspaper on a bamboo stick and sit for hours if I so choose, reading, writing or observing the world. I want china and metal spoons not plastic. In some cases I even get fresh flowers on the table. As one person said, when you buy a coffee in Europe, part of the price can be considered as real estate rental.

The many tea rooms in Argelès take trays of coffee to nearby merchants. The coffee is always in a china cup and saucer and usually has a bit of chocolate (sometimes made by the tea room). Later the merchants return the crockery if the owner of the tea room is too busy to pick it up.

Now least I be accused of being consistent, I do find occasional overwhelming desires for a Junior Whopper or a Big Mac even though I rarely eat meat and even less often beef. However, these American exports are American and the Europeans have not mastered burgers so these chains bring something that the locals can’t do better. In this case the paper containers seem appropriate. And if a Dunkin Donuts came in with raison cinnamon bagels and munchkins (with apologies to the cat of the same name where I live) I would be delighted.

I feel the same way about chain restaurants in general. In the US I wouldn’t dream of going to a Red Lobster if I could eat at the Boston Union Oyster house. And this desire not to be like everyone else is neither new or limited to food. In high school when white tie bucks were the rage, mine zipped. My penny loafers had nickels. I am told my large glasses aren’t chic, except by my hair dresser who is thrilled to see someone who dares to be original. I won’t wear brand names unless the company who has its name branded on my apparel pays me to be a walking billboard. I did solve the problem of a beautiful branded sweat suit that someone gave me by covering the brand name with a cut out of three cats. I now have sweat suit that is comfortable, more beautiful than it was originally, and several people have asked me where I got something like that, because they wanted one too. I tend to buy my clothes from someone who makes original designs.

Perhaps that is why I am a minimalist, not giving into pressure that advertising tells me I must buy to be (fill in the blank). My happiness is not thing-related, but creativity-related, which doesn’t stop me from buying things that I determine I want and in someway can enhance the quality of my life.