A Report On The Association

After purchasing a drink I settled down to the left of the shop just by the window from this location, I observed several rituals through watching interactions and general behavior. My vantage point of view proved useful in the first trip so it was used for observation in subsequent visits as well. I also obtained information by interviewing an informant. The informant is an employee at the coffee shop: a barista who works mainly in the morning shift. The barista has been an employee at this particular Starbucks for three months. According to the informant, having been on duty during the early morning rush has provided sufficient material, which they have used to observe customer behavior, maybe for business strategy.

"So, whaddyallhave?" she asks, waiting for us to decipher her strange and jumbled dialect. More often than not, the only reason we come here is to order what Waffle House is most famous for, and that (as if you needed to be told) is coffee. Waffle House coffee is a mystical brew with high caffeine content and an identifiable taste. No other restaurant's coffee is as desirable, because only Waffle House's has that "real man," industrial strength flavor. Grumpily, the waitress stomps away, aware that her tip will be far less than generous.

I tried to fling open the door, but the chain lock inside jerked it to a halt. Persistent bleats—starting and stopping at regular intervals—pierced the air inside her apartment. Margery’s alarm clock, still blaring its morning wake-up

“Caramel frappuccino like always please” I requested. I usually end up talking to Kimmie who works at Starbucks, she seems like a nice and outgoing person. It was hot and a cloudless day, most people

"Sorry, Isobel, can you help me with this order?" Shannon, the other barista on the early-early shift, handed her a piece of paper. Shannon was always over enthusiastic, at both Starbucks and

An infectious smile comes on John’s face. Alexa smiles back and the line moves, Alexa is next. She walks up to the register and orders a small vanilla ice coffee with soy. She pays for her coffee and steps to the side to wait. John walks up to the counter and orders a soy hot chocolate. He pays for it and stands on the side to wait for his drink. John and Alexa stand next to

“Four young black college students sit down at a Woolworth and ask to be served coffee. At first they’re met with comical stares and indifference, and are promptly ignored. But the

Coffee brews under a drip of scalding water, beans grind in the gears of a metal mechanism set atop the bar, and the chatter of patrons syncs with the sound of steaming milk in each Starbucks cafe chain. Like most cafes, the aroma of Arabica overwhelms all others, natural light shines in through the windows to touch the wooden tables, and the murmurs of conversations can be heard throughout the edifice. However, whereas the plebeian palate that feigns good taste finds pleasure in drinking coffee in its most basic form so that the true flavors of the drink might be relished, the rising youth of our post-modern society realize that coffee is best prepared when the taste of the bean is overwhelmed by various artificial flavors and sugars—undoubtedly cancerous but utterly unimportant. These developing connoisseurs of high society, with all their charm and intelligence, make it clear that Starbucks is the only cafe from which anyone who is anyone must buy one’s coffee. Starbucks, truly a place for the cultural and coffee elite, consistently attracts three intriguingly eccentric and completely loyal customers of both sharp wit and fine intellect: the female Women’s Studies major, the flagrant homosexual male, and the out-of-place conservative.

Ordering coffee, such a straightforward, routine activity isn’t it? Tens of millions of North Americans do it on a daily basis; each and every morning they’ll head on down to their preferred local diner or joint, then mechanically spew out their order to the cashier and waltz off, steaming cup of Joe in hand, without giving the process so much as a first thought. When all has been said and done, such a trip shouldn’t cost much more than a few minutes of daylight and a Toonie. With exception to the off day where you wake up on the wrong side of the bed and find yourself in a row with the young gentleman whom you swear intentionally spilled his drink on you, getting a fresh, satisfying brew to kick off your day, tends to be a laid-back excursion. But, imagine that every time you strolled into your cafe of choice to order yourself a refreshing drink, your chest instantaneously seized up, and your pulse spiked tenfold. Then, as you step in line, thousands of miniature burning needles begin relentlessly burrowing away under the surface of your skin, and no matter how much you scratch at them, the stinging simply will

The next morning, the alarm buzzed noisily, the sound polluting the silence. Confused for a moment, he looked around blankly. It used to be home, but now it felt unfamiliar. There was a room at the end of the corridor, the door slightly ajar. He waited, expecting the door to open, but it never did. The area was the same as the night before, empty.

How often have you walked into a coffee shop or sauntered up to one of our espresso bars only to become totally confused by the coffee-speak around you? If you’ve ever had that deer-in-the-headlights-look when a barista says, “What’s your pleasure today?” this post is for you!

I walked in, saw you there You asked me which drink I wanted Mocha, lattes, hot or iced You made me the perfect drink and i thought Oh my God, look at that drink The best barista of this place

The scent of coffee and fresh air filled the small book store. Closing time was approaching and the only people left is the aged owner, clearing his desk of loose papers, a few customers aimlessly walking around as if a book will jump off a shelf and into their hands, and me, quietly getting lost within a book in the corner. Turning the page, I prepare myself for the inevitable end when a gush of air flows past my ears and I hear a voice finish the book for me.

When waking up to Cup of Joe, customers are welcomed by a large statue of a coffee cup on the roof of the building. After entering the shop, customers walk up to the counter directly in front of them. The first section of the counter displays all of the baked goods on a glass shelf. The customer continues walking down this aisle until he or she reaches the cash register, labeled above by a sign reading “Order Here.” The customer places an order and proceeds down the aisle to the station labeled “Pick-Up Here.” After the barista takes the order, a second barista usually steps up to

The air smells of freshly ground coffee. The hiss of the milk foaming machine can be heard in regular intervals. Carl is waiting for his latte. “Carl! Double latte.” The voice from behind the stainless steel machine sounds firm but friendly. He sees his name written with black marker on the cup. The paper feels warm as he carries it over to the sugar station. His sugar pack spills some granules on the counter. It is lunch break and he takes only available chair near the bathroom.