Performance Anxiety at Starbucks

For a number of years, I got my morning coffee on the street, from the coffee cart guy. The cart and the vendor changed sometimes, based on my office location or walking route, but the routine was pretty standard. And the coffee was damn good.

Today, for some reason, I’ve “graduated” to getting my coffee at Starbucks, on mornings when I can’t stomach the thought of office coffee. It’s a little more of an intimidating experience than walking up to one of those silver coffee carts. In fact, I sometimes feel something akin to performance anxiety as I approach the counter.

Bear with me. First, there’s the multitude of options available. Usually, I just want a plain old cup of joe. But which blend? Or should I try a macchiato, or a latte, or a frappe, or whatever the hell other options there are? Hot or iced? And then there are the various sizes – and all those fancy, made-up names for sizes that Starbucks has delivered to our culture and our vernacular.

Even when I know precisely what I want: plain old coffee, blonde roast, I still sometimes get tripped up when it comes time to order. At my Starbucks in the city, there’s often a frenetic pace. People are moving quickly in front of and behind the counter. Gotta get to work. Gotta get that guy’s latte. Names and orders being shouted out. SHEILA... VENTE MACCHIATTO, ICED! 

Not my Starbucks, but crowded like my Starbucks sometimes gets

So much going on, a whirlwind of sensations, and now I have to remember the new language of small, medium and large. Do I want vente blonde or grande blonde? Some mornings, it’s just a bit too much. Coffee cart world was so much easier. Large coffee, cream and sugar. I miss those simpler times.