Starbucks

Every Friday morning on my way to see my Therapist, I drive through downtown Geneva. There is a Starbucks right on the main thoroughfare that beckons me inside during that early morning hour (usually 6:30AM for my 7:00AM appointment).

As the weeks past, I started noticing something about this particular establishment but couldn't put my finger on it. Then, my Love (who visits the same Therapist later in the morning at a more respectable and, might I add, comfortable hour, and frequents the same coffee shop) pointed it out to be very clearly.

The people who work there are happy.

Not only are they happy, they are downright full of joy.

Not only are they full of it, they want to share it with you!

A few weeks in a row of mirth I can understand. Perhaps through the holiday season, ok. But I see the same men and women week after week and darn it if they aren't the most sincerely cheerful pleasant group of people I've ever seen on "that side" of the counter.

Mind you, I still refuse to tip them.

The other Friday I arrived even earlier than usual and read a book for awhile while I sipped my Venti Americano (suggested by my Therapist. No, not for mental health, just because it is good strong coffee; half espresso / half steaming water, all good. Perhaps she saw something positive in the fact I only drink strong black coffee with nothing in it except the occasional charred bit of my lip singed off from an impatient too soon sip.)

This day, I saw an older gentleman sitting there engrossed in the day's headlines sipping some sort of frothy concoction. You could almost feel the contentment exuding from him. Plus, he was vigorously digging into an old half gallon container of cottage cheese which this morning contained his breakfast. I am not sure what it was he was eating, but I can only describe it as a gray, grainy, lumpy glop. Not exactly descriptors you'll find on the side of a cereal box.

The next morning in my Wall Street Journal on-line, I read a book review of "How Starbucks Saved My Life". An executive loses his job and family and finds redemption selling coffee. Here is a link to a story on this in case you are interested:

http://www.usatoday.com/life/books/excerpts/2007-09-17-starbucks-saved-my-life_N.htm

I can't give you the link to the WSJ story because it is a pay site. So there.

So, the next time you sip your overpriced steaming vat of Swedish plasma, ask yourself this question, "What can I learn from these people?"

Or, as you are driving your car you can grab the cup too firmly as your Love passes it over to you for a sip and curse God and everything He has made as you careen wildly down the slippery busy street with the sticky hot mess splashing down your crotch.

The choice is yours.