Ok, let’s talk about Starbucks, Oprah, and that young bearded man at the next table in full Catholic monk regalia.
I have exactly forty five minutes between activities; not enough to go home, but I can sit somewhere and write- preferably with tea. Starbucks is close (it always is). There is also an independent cafe nearby, but not as near, like, an extra 7 minutes each way, which cuts my writing time down. Like brewing chai, contemplative thoughts of life should not be rushed or the finished product has no chance of depth. Starbucks was the final choice, and here I sit.
I often text my dad when I patronize Starbucks because he has stock in the company; a quick note that I’m helping my inheritance.
(I think I’ll do that right now…done.)
In addition to helping me padre’s stock, I got the Oprah tea, which donates to children’s education. But I can’t fool myself. If I put my money into that indie cafe instead, all of the money stays within my community, which creates an positive atmosphere and tax base to keep the education in my city healthy on its own, which helps children on a direct level. And if everyone supported their communities in this way, we wouldn’t need as many charities in the first place.
See the depth I reached by giving myself more time to write instead of driving farther to the indie cafe? Is this an example of irony?
(So the monk is sitting here with no drink. Is he too poor to buy something but needed a place to sit and read his book? Can’t read the title. I guess he has to be poor with the vows. I’ll go buy him an Oprah chai.)
I like Oprah. I think she achieved her success against incredible odds, and has created an empire based on positive ideas. After reading an issue of her magazine you feel that you are a beautiful person that can accomplish all your goals. The feeling may not last past five minutes, but it’s a powerful drug, which is why she is so popular. Oprah is also into tea, and that’s the biggest point in her favor.
(Damn. Just as I bought the monk some tea, a non-monk guy sat down with two drinks. Probably the person he was waiting for. The non-monk was directly in front of me in line. I suppose it was good timing. How embarrassing if I had given the monk a chai just before his friend sat down with their drinks?)
So what did my convenient-but-distantly-corporate decision deliver for my time?
- Not sure any depth of flavor in my writing was achieved.
- The Oprah chai is just fine, but a touch too much of some spice that’s not my favorite. Also, I asked, and they don’t use honey as the sweetener- come on! That’s the definition of chai: black tea, spices, honey, milk. Bad Starbucks, bad.
- Starbucks has a relaxed atmosphere, which I like, but the servers at this particular location were in such a rush, I received no twinkly-eyed smile like from the server I know at the indie cafe.
- The thought might count about buying the monk tea, but he didn’t receive the gift. Who knows? he could have been lactose intolerant anyway.
Time to pick up my son. In the end, I think he wins out because he had no angst about social decisions, and gets a surprise chai latte treat.
Move with intention.
How thoughtful of you to buy that monk a tea! Can you send whatever Luke didn't finish to me via Pony Express?
It's on its way. Misty the Pony will arrive approx tomorrow with Stud Stanley the rider. The chai, and Stanley, will be hot.