Compilation Sunday- (that special time of week when picture and prose become as one
When leaving the friendly confines of the good ol’ US of A, there are a certain amount of differences one can expect to encounter. In the Great White North, people like to add an extra syllable that rhymes with “day” onto the end of many of their words and phrases. The daily forecast has much less variance with a low of 14 and a high of 17 or 18. Dollar bills are much scarcer in lieu of the prevalent one-dollar and two-dollar coins. And there are many other differences I could relate, especially the friendly factor that’s palpable in the heart of a big city. I’m not a native New Yorker, but everyone getting off the bus and saying “thank you” to the driver is not exactly standard for residents of the Big Apple. But no matter the differences that a international traveler might encounter, it sure is nice to realize the blessings of home that seem to travel along with a person, such as the Starbucks on every corner of every place we visited. Commercial America is alive and well in the land flowing with Molson and Canadian bacon.
Let me start by saying that I’m not a Starbucks addict, especially not in the same way that some of my enlightened colleagues worship the grounds that they froth on in this chain coffee place. In fact, when Carla and I first started dating and making weekly pilgrimages for decaf mochas to unique local coffee houses with color, we eschewed the sterile, chain feeling of Starbucks, being unwilling to support the corporate establishment. We instead preferred the artsy, eccentric coffee houses, the ones with poetry readings or other cultural fare, where an honest mocha was made with care. Eventually we relented from our boycott and have even come to enjoy the occasional iced mocha from Starbucks, but still we’d choose an independent haus over the national chain. However when we get a flock of gift cards from students every Christmas, it is pretty hard to not patronize Starbucks.
Seeing the Starbucks at seemingly every intersection in Canada made me reflect a little bit on the business that is big business at a place like this. Every Friday morning my men’s accountability group meets at Starbucks where occasionally I purchase a grande decaf mocha. The total rings up to the tune of $3.50 at the register. If I were feeling especially fat and sassy (that is, if it’s socially acceptable for a virile, distinguished male to feel such a way) I might even go venti (which, I’m told means “super macho” in Italian) and have to dole out $3.80 to my favorite local barista. Now, for myself, this is an occasional treat, when I feel like breaking free from a simple cup of coffee and spoiling myself, because, well, I deserve it (or so Madison Avenue wants me to believe). For others though, a trip to Starbucks for a specialty coffee is a normal part of the everyday routine. For those folks, I like to give a little primer in Starbuck-ian economic theory.
Forking over the $3.80 for a venti mocha won’t exactly break the bank until the days on the calendar start getting blended together like a frappuccino. For the daily businessman whose day really doesn’t get started until he drives through the drive-thru, he’s ringing up a $19.00 weekly tab. That’s not exactly enough to declare bankruptcy, but it would mostly like feed and clothe a third world child for a month. If the same suit hits Starbucks every workday for a month for his gotta-have-it vanilla latte, he’ll be forking over about $87.00 of his monthly salary just to feed his java addiction. Now we’re getting a little more serious. This amount of cash could pay a monthly electric bill or even approximately 1/3 of a cell phone bill for a family with 3 teenage girls. Should Mr. Wall Street continue on this present course of making Starbucks a member of his extended family for a full 12 months, he’s chalking up a yearly bill of $1048.80. Hello, Mortgage Payment. What’s up, Family Vacation? Now all of a sudden the discussion gets quiet and serious.
When the numbers get added up, the results are a little sobering. Perhaps if you know someone who’s a Starbucks groupie, it’s time for an intervention. If not for them, then for their kids. I hear that college costs money these days. )
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