A few months ago a new Starbucks opened on campus. I pass by it every day walking to and from my bus stop. It has quaint, little umbrella-ed tables out front, perfect for people-watching as you sip your coffee and reflect on your fellow man, studies, or the finer aspects of this life - whichever appeals to you most at a given moment. Inside boasts an intimately lit ambience quietly pulsing with hip music and caffeine-induced focus and creativity. And the smell. Oh, the smell! It seeks me out like reptillian cartoon vapors winding their way through the air to my eager nostrils, filling me with longing and chipping away at my resolve. I will not buy over-priced psychoactive stimulants from multinational corporations. I will not!
Most days I resist temptation and press doggedly on. But on rare days when my resolve isn't as strong as it should be, I make it all the way to lab only to realize that I absolutely need my fix. I fight it briefly and with little heart until eventually I realize the futility of the struggle and give in. Who am I kidding? I accept my limitations. I take that long walk of shame back to the shop, stand in line with the 20-or-so other addicts, and order another hit.
I can't help but feel a bit ridiculous and pretentious as I look my dealer in the eye and order a grande sugar-free, fat-free caramel macchiato or the equally addictive venti mocha frappaccuni light. A drink requiring more than two descriptive adjectives seems overly fussy and decadent to me, a little like wearing a slinky, sequined cocktail dress to a party where everyone else is in jeans and t-shirts. Its complete overkill. And its also slightly embarassing.
In my rational mind, I know I can get the same fix from the perfectly free coffee brewed right there in my office. And yet, it just does not hold the same appeal. Why must I love my $4-a-cup coffee so? WHY?
No comments:
Post a Comment