Starbucks: a personal history

Family and friends who know me as a coffee snob might be surprised to learn I was late to the Starbucks party. But, I've been making up for lost time.

Since I grew up drinking Cuban-style cafe con leche my mother learned to make from my abuela, before crafting them myself as a teenager, I never cared much for the Dunkin' Donuts or typical convenience store, diner or restaurant coffees widely available in New Jersey in the 1970s. With few exceptions, I would find them weak, tasteless or just plain awful. During the late '70s and early '80s, in fact, I would sometimes go to a Greenwich Village cafe on weekends to have great espresso-based coffee made for me and my date (who eventually became my wife).

New Jersey's first Starbucks cafe opened in Ridgewood in November 1993, according to the New York Times. Although it's hard to believe, the first New York City Starbucks cafe (at Broadway and 87th Street) didn't open until the following year, in April 1994.

It wasn't until March 2002 that I first tried Starbucks coffee. I was in Honolulu and, disappointed in the weak local kona coffee, I ventured into a Starbucks cafe across the street from my hotel and ordered a caffe latte. That first cup reminded me of my grandmother's coffee, which to that point in my life had only been matched by my mother and Cuban cafes on Bergenline Avenue in Union City, New Jersey. I went back to that Starbucks cafe every morning while I was in Honolulu. Today, almost 15 years later, I can still think of sitting in the balcony of my hotel room, overlooking the Pacific Ocean, when I enjoy a caffe latte.

When I returned from Hawaii, I sought out local Starbucks cafes and never was disappointed by their coffee or service. Whether I was in the U.S. or Europe, I would be impressed by the consistency of their quality and pleased by their friendly employees. Away from home, I would find some comfort relaxing in their cafes with a morning or afternoon caffe latte.

When we visited our eldest son in college, my wife and I and our youngest son would stop at a Starbucks in White Plains and order coffees for the ride home. During the nearly fours years I worked in midtown Manhattan, I looked forward to stepping out to a nearby Starbucks some afternoons for a pick-me-up coffee to bring back to the office.

My tastes eventually expanded to appreciate some of their other drinks, including pumpkin space latte, chai tai latte and smoothies (typically with a shot of espresso added). Along with the classic caffe latte, my favorite Starbucks coffee is the flat white with some vanilla powder mixed in and a dash of cinnamon on top.  

Today, less than 25 years later after they first appeared in the New York metropolitan area, there are over 100 Starbucks locations in New Jersey and almost 250 in New York City, and that's not counting book stores, hotels and other businesses that "proudly serve" Starbucks coffees.

Although Starbucks has managed to grow exponentially without compromising the quality of their beverages, the same can't be said of their service. Not all baristas are friendly, and a clean, comfortable cafe in which to relax is no longer a given. I guess that's to be expected from a chain that grew from 17 U.S. locations in 1987 to 22,519 globally on June 28, 2015 (according to www.starbucks.com) and now has almost 240,000 employees, few of which are likely to make it their career.   

I still enjoy an espresso-based coffee at a Greenwich Village cafe. I'm grateful for the increasing number of Cuban cafes appearing across New Jersey and New York, the ones of which I've sampled offer outstanding coffees. I'm pleasantly surprised by the quality of McCafe coffees, and in fact have stopped at McDonald's just for their lattes. My family continues to get a kick out of the different espresso coffees I craft for them. 

I still find satisfactory coffees at diners and restaurants few and far in between, and usually don't bother ordering them at the end of my meals anymore.  I still haven't tasted a good cup of coffee from Dunkin' Donuts, even though there is one less than two blocks from my home. The convenience store coffees I've tried have been unremarkable.

A Starbucks cafe when I'm away from home and wanting a great cup of coffee, on the other hand, remains a welcome sight. I've enjoyed making up for lost time, coffee snob that I am. 

Relaxing at a Starbucks cafe in Zurich, Switzerland; March 2011

  

A special cup

Up before 5 o'clock for a day of work on the road, I started the two-part process of awakening my senses by stepping into the hotel room shower. That was easy.

The second part was more difficult.  Normally, I make a strong, tasty cafe con leche at home to complete the waking up process. That proved difficult in this hotel, however, with its pedestrian pouch coffee, artificial dairy powder, and small packets of sugar awaiting me. But, I gave it my best shot by squeezing a pair of pouches into the little coffee maker basket and, when the cup below was filled, pouring two packets each of dairy powder and sugar into the brew.

It almost tasted like drinkable coffee. And, it almost succeeded in fully awakening me.

Shortly before 6 a.m., on my way out of the hotel, I stopped by the front desk with a question about my bill.  The young gentleman at this Courtyard by Marriott in Oneonta, NY was particularly helpful. He quickly answered my question, apologizing for a charge on what should have been a complimentary breakfast the previous morning. He asked if everything else about my stay at the hotel was fine.

"Everything was fine," I assured him. "I just regret that I needed to leave early today, before your cafe opened and I could get a Starbucks latte."

Without hesitation, he asked, "You want a latte?  I can make that for you."

"You can make me a latte?" I responded, just to make sure I heard him correctly. After all, he was the front desk man, possibly the only employee inside the hotel at that moment. The cafe wouldn't open for another 45 minutes, and there was no sign of its employees across the lobby.

"Sure, I can make you a latte," he assured me.  "Do you want a flavor in it? What size would you like?"

I responded, then, a few moments later, while standing by as he made the complimentary latte that I sensed would be one of the best cups of coffee I've had in a long, long time, I said:

"I can't thank you enough for going through the trouble of making this coffee for me. You're making me feel like a king. You've done your good deed for the day. Now, I've got to make sure I do mine."

During a couple of training sessions I was leading later in the morning, I told participants of my experience at the hotel. I cited it as a great example of outstanding customer service, of going beyond the duties in a job description to make a positive difference for a customer.

I certainly look forward to returning to that Courtyard by Marriott later this autumn.  I plan to enjoy a Starbucks latte -- after the cafe opens -- and thank that young gentleman behind the desk again for going out of his way to make a special cup that helped make my long day that much better.

She cried, privately in public

Penn Station. Thursday, November 4, 6:30 PM. Starbucks. I sit down, waiting for my latte. The distinct opening notes of Nilsson’s “Everybody’s Talkin’” play, but they’re immediately pierced by the sound of someone very near by starting to cry. I look up and see a young woman across the table from me, head down, muffin half-eaten, sobbing by her cup of coffee.

I look away, waiting for my coffee to finally be ready. Privately, in a very public place, she continues to cry. Then she seems to stop, momentarily. After getting my latte, I sit back down, and she begins to cry again. She doesn’t seem much older than my own children, and I begin to wonder. Did someone close to her die? Did her boyfriend break up with her? Did she lose her job?

I lean over and ask her, “Are you going to be okay?” She looks up, nods, and says, “I’m fine.” As I get up to leave, she looks at me and smiles faintly. I return the half-smile, and walk out to catch a train to Newark, where I will meet my son and go with him to a soccer game. Presumably, she collected herself shortly afterwards and moved on. Destination unknown, but hopefully a happier place.