My feelings for Starbucks are ambiguous. On one hand their cappuccino is better than the one I buy at Chez Laurence, a bistro around the corner.
On the other hand I don’t like to give my name while ordering a cappuccino. It’s not that I mind hearing the barista shouting “tall cappuccino for Allison” – it’s just an important privilege that you are able to order your cappuccino completely anonymous.
Also I have to disclose that I invested some money in Starbucks this summer. Shortly after the stock dropped twenty percent, which is a good sign. It means that I’m happy in love.
But Sunday’s Chez Laurence is closed, so I walk to Starbucks, on Sunday’s it’s seldom crowded and therefore I can order my cappuccino without having to think about my or any other name.
These are the small pleasures in life that keep suicide away.