Writing
| Starbucks |
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Starbucks is a special place for me. There are few places that are so easily accessible almost anywhere that can reliably be used as a sanctuary from the rest of the world. During the worst day at work I can use the motivation of lunch at Starbucks as a tool to get me through the morning without killing anyone. It relieves the morning’s stress and prepares for the afternoon’s potential traumas. I should point out that I don't actually like coffee. I'm not craving Starbucks in desperate need of a caffeine fix. I have it on good authority that their coffee is actually terrible. I tend to drink chai lattes in winter and mocha frappuccinos in summer. When I’m at my lowest I treat myself to a Signature Hot Chocolate, a drink so decadent that it should come with it’s own public health warning. I’ve never reached the point where I need one of those with whipped cream and sprinkles too; that’s being held back in case of complete disaster. I’m not actually particularly enamoured of the food there either. The pastries and cakes are nice but not the subject of painful cravings such as I suffer for the Costa Chocolate Twists, the Prêt-a-Manger ham and cheese croissants or the Café Nero Pain au Raison. (Yes, considerable research has been performed). The sandwiches are usually stingy on the fillings and commit the cardinal sin of not putting content all the way up to the edges. What I adore about Starbucks is the fact that I can sit in a comfy chair for a pretty much unlimited amount of time and read my book in peace. I have an hour-long lunch break and in most places once you've consumed your sandwich in half an hour you become the target of glares. In Starbucks though, when it starts to fill up people politely ask if they can take the seat opposite you, or even next to you on a sofa. Everyone smiles and gladly shares their space. Even when you are taking up prime real estate on a comfy chair with a plug socket no one really seems to mind, there’s the quiet acknowledgement that you probably need the space and should be left alone. Working on Fleet Street the coffee shop density is sufficiently high that I can pick and chose exactly the kind of environment I want. I usually go to the slightly more distant Starbucks because it almost never fills up and has a cavernous basement with loads of comfy chairs. It’s possible the staff are starting to recognise me, but it’s hard to tell as they greet everyone like a valued customer. Even with a 15 person queue at 9.15 on a Monday morning they are polite, unflappable and accurate. You can sit in comfortable tranquillity reading your book or newspaper, or even browsing the web if you are willing to pay the slightly exorbitant charges. The music is the very definition of easy listening at a pleasantly unobtrusive volume. Customers in inner city Starbucks treat the premises with reverence; even the business people having trendy meetings drop their voices in respect of the sanctuary of Starbucks. Out of the city, or at weekends Starbucks can get a little more rowdy, it’s a wonderful place for meeting a friend for a gossip, collapsing with bags of shopping or perusing the Sunday papers. You do sadly run the risk of encountering a youngling invading your grown up paradise. But it’s still enough of a reward that I can be persuaded to drag myself shopping with the promise of blueberry cheesecake and a latte. I have tried other coffee shops – Costa and Café Nero both have better sandwiches, but they (generally) have less armchairs. Both also fail to have the slick, customer service that Starbucks has mastered. Moving the drink serving away from the till removes a lot of the pile-up problems that can occur. While being served by someone with an Italian accent adds to the European feel, it’s less good when you have to repeat yourself three times. Also the chunky Starbucks mugs are just so comforting to hold, unlike those pretentious glass mugs some places use, I need the sensation of cuddling the mug. Starbucks is my haven, nowhere else quite manages to sooth my nerves so effectively. If only their sandwiches were a little better I'd probably go there every day. I'd rapidly be bankrupt, but my blood pressure would be considerably lower. |