Working on the front lines of the coffee (culture) wars

I'm your pusher man.

Or I'm not. Depending on how you like your coffee.

Actually, not.

Let's drop the pretense, why not? Bitches? Beuller? Let's not pretend that the coffee war is more than tangentially about coffee. It's about class. It's about money. It's about identity. And let's not just pretend that there are just two players. How about about the third group of combatents, the morally unassailable independant cafe? "Mom and pop" shops aren't the innocent bystanders, the non-coms, the civilians, the casualties that they'd so to be believed.

What do people get from a cup of coffee?
A slight, almost imperceptible buzz. Eyes a little wider open. Mind a little clearer. But as a heavy user, myself, I can assure you that most of it is psychological. It takes about four shots of espresso for me to feel any effects. And caffeine is not subject to tolerance effects, so I can assure you, it's not just because I've been soaking my neurons with the stuff. So why do people buy it? Why is it such a big fucking deal? Why does my working at one of the three types (corporate upscale, corporate downscale, independent) make such a difference to who I am and what I do and who I serve?

People get identity. Reassurance. People get a luxury item. Coffee is, and always has been, a luxury item. Before it became gourmet, it was a luxury and a vice. Coffee shops began proliferating on the streets of London hundreds of years ago. They were an exotic alternative to brain-numbing pubs and quasi-legal gin shops. Nobody needed to drink it then, nobody does now. But coffee is something you can always afford somewhere, and justify, and customize. It's something you do for yourself. And because it's a manifestation of personal whim and custom, it's become a tool of self-definition. So it says who you are. And what you think about yourself.

Who drinks corporate downscale coffee? Self-identified blue collar types. No-frills. Of the people. Hates pretense. Hates extras. Regulah, black, cream and two, dark with one, lahge, small, just so it's hot. But don't take this burnt orange and magenta identity at face value. It's as much a costume as any other.

Who drinks corporate upscale coffee? The earnestly upwardly mobile, the unapologetic social climber, the middle class pretender. It's for people who don't care what other people think they think they are, as long as they don't think they're poor, classless, or ignorant. Quasi-informed, quasi-progressive, quasi-gourmet. They're perhaps the most honest of any type, because they buy the coffee they can afford, in a comfortable, predictable setting from pleasant, consistently attired employees.

Who drinks independent upscale coffee? The self-consciously upscale, the psuedo-socialist intelligentsia, the anti-corporate crusader, the whole-foods shopper and former salvation-army dresser. The navel gazing hipster, the anti-corporate funkster, the unconsummated bisexual and the macrobiotic mom. They care very much what you think about them. They are the type of people who call ahead to see whether you're brewing fair trade coffee. They want to bring their own rice milk and stevia.

And yet the myth is that people are choosing their coffee shop based on the flavor of the coffee. I hate some of the coffee I brew. Our french roast tastes like cabbage, caraway seeds, and sorrow. Some of our espresso drinks are sweeter than candy, with any espresso flavor smothered in syrup and milk. Some of the coffee is especially tasty. And some of the drinks are balanced and perfect. I'm not ignorant enough to believe that either of these selections, the nasty or the tasty bring anyone to or keep anyone out of my coffee shop.

They come or go based on who they think they are and what they think I have for them.