The Green Siren: North Campus

Estella, my old car, greets me as I sit down at a table on the patio outside my Starbucks next to the Port of Subs, Tropical Smoothie, the adorable locally owned bakery Leopold’s, and Pizza Hut.  I’ve spent countless hours of my life as an adolescent, young adult and transitioning adult here.  When I now drive Grace Kelly, or Gracie who now wears the BUGABRI license plate, Estella was my first car, a green Beetle and the original BUGABRI.  And there she sits, across from me, or at least a symbol of her, as I take my place today on this patio filled with fond memories of love and comfort, and full of unexpected and treasured memories I’m making as I live my life today. 

I look around and I think, here I am again.  I work across the street from my high school where I spent the best overall time of my life thus far, and I used to come on many a study outing, coffee date, first date, and coffee break during high school.  I always came back during college and afterwards; my parents have been coming here consistently, and by consistently I mean daily, for about four years.  That means they’re a pair of regulars, and they knew the baristas all here.  They chat, show my parents pictures of their kids, and all that.  It makes sense, though, doesn’t it?  You have a relationship with these people who give you your coffee every day.  You see us every single day.  For some, seeing us is the highlight of your day.  Maybe not seeing my face but receiving in your hand from mine that extra hot soy latte makes your day.  My Mom calls Starbucks the Mother Ship.  This store is our home.  And we know the people in our home. 

And those who have been here the longest know me, by way of my parents’ recounting of my travels to them.  And now, since spending time at home after the college and first world travel years, it’s the place through which I’ve helped define myself by asking, by seriously considering the challenging questions I’ve been asking myself for years: about responsibility, about relationships, about the world, about my place in it.  In this coffee house, my local Starbucks, I’ve grown up.  I traveled the world, and now I’ve come home, to my local Vegas Starbucks, lovingly dubbed North Campus.

I worked a stint at the Starbucks in Lake Forest, Illinois where I went to college.  It was my first job outside of working at my father’s office, and I loved it.  I also worked there at a critical time period of college for me; critical in that I shoved a lot of experiences and lessons into a short time frame, and yet I absolutely loved that time of my life.  I think that’s why I knew I wanted to work at this Starbucks, because this kind of gig, where I get to smile and chat with people all day long that also keeps me busy, helps me feel productive and happy, like I felt then and remember feeling so good about.  Ever since Lake Forest in the fall of 2006, I’ve found myself aspiring to that feeling of satisfaction in my life.  Perhaps that satisfaction could grow and mature and I’ll receive it from other things in the future, but for now I’ve returned to that place that provides stability and even more importantly for me, confidence.

All I’ve these things, my existential questions, my soul’s yearnings, my heart’s ponderings, my approaches to social and environmental complexities, I’ve written about in some form over the years at this Starbucks.  I’m really connected this particular store, so I think it’s important that I take a look at what my involvement in it looks like.  I try to remain informed in an era of globalization, and that means I have to know that all the things I get for cheap come from somewhere else for cheaper, which extends it’s fingers into all the various issues of environment, social, and business issues. 

For me, I don’t want to so much look at the roles of big institutions in globalization, though arguments may come up as I ponder and reflect; I want to look at what my role behind the counter as a girl from Vegas who cares about the environment and works as a barista looks like.  How many times a day do I think two and three times before picking u pa cup?  How many times do I not think at all about it about snagging a cup for a doppio or some extras.  Throwing all those past date sandwiches and pastries away; flashbacks of sitting amongst my peers in Washington, DC listening to a man tell us how he came to be homeless after a successful career as a capitol police officer.  It can happen to anyone; staying awake nights on the streets, sleeping in parks during the day, not knowing where food was coming from.  I’ve got plenty, with nothing to do with it.

I think of animals, of cows and chickens and pigs confined and crammed one on top of the other to supply enough sustenance for our insatiable demands for food I have to throw away at the end of the day.  I don’t close as often anymore, so I don’t actually mark the breakfast sandwiches out anymore, but I see what it represents when my manager sits on the floor and takes the trays of past date sandwiches out and replaces them with fresh.  And yet, I participate.  Willingly.  I need a job, I really like my job, and I often enjoy the benefits of these systems; I like how our stuff tastes just as much as the next guy.  I’ve been drinking it for ten, eleven years now.  I love it, and I love this place.  I just don’t always love my actions here.

I’m sitting inside now at a table in the corner, the prime location I’ve been informed by a gray-haired man with a laptop the a leather armchair across from me.  I’m eating an egg-white and spinach wrap that Jackie heated for me.  I’m drinking a whole milk latte (yeah, those prior posts about veganism?  Thoughts still on my mind, but I’m not currently fully practicing) with cinnamon dolce, white mocha and mocha, with cinnamon sprinkles on top.  It’s iced, and I like using the little straw.  Some people like big straw with their smaller drinks and small straws with their bigger drinks.  Personal preferences.  But yes, the sweetness of the drink sounds icky as I write it but it tastes good.  I’ve got a sweet tooth, and a sweet tooth with coffee is wonderful.  I indulged today because Krista’s creative with drinks and I asked her to make me something tasty.  Other than that, I’m typically an iced coffee drinker.  Or I make a soy latte.  But yes, even when I don’t work here, I spend time here.  I take meals here.  I receive financial compensation.  My commitment to this place knows few bounds.  So, how committed can I remain to another partner of mine, the good ol’ Earth?

Not as committed as I’d like, that’s for sure.  But isn’t there always some room in the cup for improvement?

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