I got my undergraduate degree in Starbucks and passed the bar in Starbucks. The manager of my then local store pressed me daily for a news flash on whether or not I had passed.

“Tall bold, no room” I would ask.

“Any news?” She would respond.

When I relocated to Florida, I found my nearest Starbucks before I found the grocery. With the warm weather, my “tall bold” morphed into a grande unsweetened iced black iced coffee, no room.

It was all great and friendly and tasty and nice, and just like home, only with a palm tree in the parking lot until I decided to take a part-time job there ( I never did practice law); until I read the ingredients in the frapuccino mix, until I was forced to sit through numerous coffee “tastings,” until I found myself standing around waving the aroma of a coffee into my nostrils, gurgling it around in mouth and writing down my impressions as if we were discussing a bottle of precious wine. It was all too silly, too pretentious and was totally killing my little corner of comfort with over familiarity.

Although I must say, I loved my hat and apron, and was pained when I had to return it.

But, it has never been the same.

One thing interests me is the interaction with baristas outside the shop, like when I run into them on the street. Some will say hello and even engage in conversation, while others will work hard to avoid all eye contact.

I don’t blame the latter group at all. If I worked with customers, I’m not sure I’d want to feel obligated to be friendly outside of the workplace. I do find it entertaining, though, when I see one of them do that pretty obvious head turn to avoid me.

Rich

we NCDAs are a minority group that are a little wealthier and have a little more free time, simply by never visiting their neighborhod barista or learning the Frantalian spoken within Starbuk Nation.

i may be half-asleep until noon, but i remain a proud NCDA!!!

I am boring though, because my drink is a grande non-fat latte.

*certified or certifiable, I get those confused.

Either way – I’m in love. Too bad you’re married.

(…that was a joke. I’m straight. But maybe you’re blog and my blog could be in love. I’m ok with that.)