Welcome to Coffee House Brats Unite! This is an elite society designed for those of us who do the dirty work in getting people their daily drug fix of caffeine. We are the best of the best. We do dishload after dishload, we pour double espressoes, we make the largest teas and the most delicious hot chocolates with whipped cream. We view underground society as it has never been viewed before. We hear live entertainment and read poetry on the wall. We, in short, keep everything in working order, because without things like Earl Grey Tea and Java Jones the universe would surely collapse! Proud to serve... Thoughts on coffeehouses go here. Even if you don't work in one, we want to hear what you have to say! ........... Its only my 3rd shift and i can spot the tripple tripple exstra large coffee drinkers who stumble in around 8 pm. Smile. nod. fight with the till to give me what i want. wander around. I dont drink coffee. I dont mind the exstract stuff served over, say, icecream, but i dont mind /anything/ served over icecream. Im rather proud that i am not addicted to the stuff, maybe thats why i wont start. -Dawn I'd like to believe that the coffeehouse I work at is some underground bohemian revolutionary place, where angst-ridden poetry is posted on the walls and there's always pierced people around and grunge music playing. I'd love to work at a place where intellectuals gather to discuss art and philosophy, or groups of kids hang around and write or strum guitars. Unfortunately, the place that comes closest to that is a corporate franchise masquerading as the misfit's dream. So I opted to work at a nice, independent, ordinary coffeshop. It's mostly full of Yale students, who always wear the same stuff and say things like "oh my god, like, totally". Lots of them come and sit at the tables with their laptops, catching up on studying, until the late hours of the night. Some cuddle on the couches, and it's really cute to watch when I'm mopping the floors. It's not my ideal place, but all in all I like it very much. I like the atmosphere of being around people, being in the world, which is what people come to coffeeshops for. The place is bright and cheery, with yellow walls and comfortable couches, and there's live entertainment on the weekends I work at Jamba Juice, a smoothie place, and it's really really similar as far as I can tell... except the customers aren't quite as stressed out. A new hire, Krysten, used to work at the Starbucks across the street, and she remarked that people aren't quite as obsessive about getting their juice fix as they are about getting their caffine fix. Still, it's very similar, this mixing drinks business. My co-workers are the kind of people who would hang out in coffee shops with their guitars and philosophies... they just choose to be healthy, wheatgrass over caffine. I am on my feet all day, taking orders, giving change, pouring some of this and some of that and mixing it all up, sweeping floors, restocking straws, swearing under my breath when the frozen dairy is too hard to scoop, mopping up spilled smoothies... Thoughts on coffeehouses... There's a coffeeplace on State St where I always see punk teenagers hanging out. Some day I will go in there and sit down with my journal. I haven't yet... frankly, I'm rather scared of the place. Even though I would likely fit in visually at this point. Someday I will regularly haunt a coffeehouse, going to every poetry reading, every open mic, every smalltown singer songwriter performance... I will be the one sitting in the back with my usual drink, smiling slightly. Someday maybe I'll own one.
Sweet, sweet coffee. I recently gave the stuff up (don't worry, I'll fall back off the wagon sooner or later), and I think I miss the act of acquiring it just as much, if not more, than the actual caffeine intake. Chatting with the folks behind the counter at Cranium's, the cafe/collectibles shop a few blocks from my house. Patting the giant yoda on the head as I walk in the door. Sitting in the window booth at Perkengruven, the coffee shop in the heart of the university district. Sipping from a warm mug as I watch students walk by outside, wondering where they're going. Wandering into some random cool coffee shop I've never seen before, taking a chance on the quality of the product (and more often than not, being very happy with the results), checking out the crowd (or lack thereof), shifting my mood just a bit to fit the atmosphere. Grabbing a quick caffeine fix from a cart on the sidewalk as I race for a ferry (some of the best coffee I've ever had has been from unassuming little street vendors). Yes, occasionally, when no other options are present, meekly setting foot inside a Starbucks. Leaving guilt-riddled, yet happy to get my latte. Big coffee shops with books, paintings, photographs, computers scattered about, a stage for tonight's local band or poetry slam. The friendly buzz of the crowd; Fifty people, most in pairs, discussing their lives over coffee. Small cafes, just a hole in the wall. Sometimes almost completely empty, waiting to be discovered, grateful to (and often on a first name basis with) their small following of loyal patrons. That one street vendor that everyone knows about. At any time, a line of at least six people waiting for the best coffee in town. Maybe another six who just want to flirt with the person behind the register. A moment of silence for my beloved Speakeasy, Seattle's killer coffee shop/internet service provider/geek hangout that burned to the ground a few months ago. Cute linux chick, watching anime behind the counter between orders. Cool punk dude, who was kind enough to not defraud my credit card, and to show me how he could have done it if he wanted to. Bald guy, who seemed to hate me and Justin for no particular reason. Kyle and his secret personal stash of espresso beans. (Kyle is the only one whose name I ever bothered to learn. His specialty, with its closely guarded recipe (choclate flakes and raspberry syrup), was the "Kylepachinno.") Hard working tech support folks, stopping by at the end of their shift for coffee or, depending on how annoying the callers had been, beer. The filthy moochers who spent hours using the public internet terminals without ever buying a drink. I miss them all. Owning a geeky coffee shop is an active dream of mine. We've even got a name picked out, and there is some scheming in the works. Maybe some day it will happen and you can all stop in.
In Austin, the coffee is plentiful. We fancy ourselves Seattle in that respect... there is a coffeeshop for every young bohemian, no matter what the hour or color of your hair. I hang out at Flipnotic's. Flips is located a little south of the center of town. There is a big beautiful wooden porch, and a brightly colored space themed inside with the counter and mosaic-ed tables. The porch is perfect for watched the weather and for everything else. The customers range from weathered carpenters, dreadhaired moms and their little boys, to rambunctious groups of punkstyle teenagers who are richer than they look. The drink of choice is usually a "mocha frappe" or a "moonquake shake". The employees are mean to newbies and sweet to regulars, and being a regular their is like winning a trophy. Everyone wants to be in with the employees, and know all the other regulars names. It's a diverse lot, though, the only requirement being that you go all the time. One of the regular kids killed himself a few days ago. Everyone is talking about him now... It's really a community. During the day, Dave or Mike or Phillip plays Nirvana and Dusty Springfield and DJ Shadow... At night there's live local music, inside. Sunday nights are packed for Shorty Long, a local jazz/island ukulele novelty band. My dad collages his visual journal there, my mom draws the sparrows that sit in the trees, my boyfriend has 75 percent of his "great conversations" there, some of my oldest friends study there. It's a place for everyone, it feels like home. Rhymi likes Metro. Metro is situated right in the middle of the "drag", which is the campus/shopping area north of downtown. It has a huge comfy upstairs with couches and tables. The staff is lowkey, and everyone is lowkey. One night, Isaac and Rhymi and I talked about our goals splayed out on the continually unused stage, and ended up playing MASH with two bohemian unitarian boys. We were there almost all night. It's open 24 hours and there are always people there, talking and staring at the beutiful paintings they put up. Right down the street is Mojo's, a graffiti clad smoky couch filled hangout for every UT student and townie who feels they don't fit in anywhere else. You can find all the zines and "fuck the government" flyers you need here, nestled among tattoo kids and homeless folks asleep on the couches. They're open 24 hours, and it seems like everyone has a story about staying up all night there. There are games and great books just laying around for you to dive into. You can always hear the hippest electronica, indy rock, and hip hop playing loud there. It'll pull you in. Further down the street and one block over you'll find Spider House. Spider House has the biggest porch and the prettiest lights and the prettiest employees. The inside part is just an old house, with quirky rooms and velvet couches. Spider House is for studying and meeting people and long, long conversations under the stars. It seems like you can always see someone you know there. It's hidden away in a neighborhood, but everyone knows about it and everyone loves it. There's little not to love in it's beauty and quiet conversaton. The toy store I work for has employee meetings there, on this littler back porch crowded around big brown picnic tables. Ruta Maya is downtown. It has a cigar shop attatched to it, and always has a diverse lineup of local acts playing on their stage. It's smoky and the employees are mean, but the coffee is excellent. Ruta Maya is for hardcore jitteries, those brown turtlenecked cello players who want 12 espresso shots to go with their unfiltered American Spirits. Once I saw a great tejano rock band there, and I felt the intense dirt desert energy just seep into me. I think I would feel deadened if I went there too much. Little City is also downtown. It's kind of ritzy and ivy-laden. It's quiet and nice there, though... Kind of a gay boi hangout, which always makes me ooh and ahh. Mozart's is out on the lake. There's a beautiful view and good food to go with your coffee. It's kind of far away from anyone I know, but whenever I do make it out there I feel calmed. It's one of the most beautiful locations imaginable. My brother used to go there and write all night. It inspires people. Flightpath is up north. It's lovely there. It's next door to a great thrift store, and a lot of people feel home there, like I do at Flips. I don't hang out there enough to say too much more about it. Austin Java Company serves real food too, so it feels like less like a hangout for all hours. But my boyfriend used to work there and their coffee and food is truly excellent. I like to go there for breakfasts on Sunday mornings sometime, and breathe in the clean crisp feeling and the super-intellectual conversations going on around me. There's also Quack's, and the 503, and another Little City, and a half dozen other coffeeshops I just don't know enough about. Austin is great for caffiene and conversation addicts like myself. -Summer My coffee house is Bean Around The World. In a funky brick building at the edge of Chinatown, my Bean Around The World is tops. All the hipsters hang there, the hippies, the old men playing backgammon and the eccentric students with feathers in their hair working for hours on essays about auras. The music is always fantastic. When you wander in on a rainy twilight afternoon, there's a good chance Beth Orton or Cat Power will be filling the brick-cracks and threaded dreads with their sparse beauty tunes. Bean Around The World has the hottest sweetest employees of any coffeeshop in town. If you're a regular they love you and draw hearts or write "Mocha" on your mocha foam. Bean has the best lattés in Victoria, and when your coffee card is all punched up and you get the free drink, they let you pick any size of any drink and they don't grumble cause you're not paying for it. Instead they smile and say "you win!". They have the weirdest selection of magazines, from New Internationalist to English Country Life to Broken Pencil. When all the tables are taken, you ask to share with someone who's sitting alone and no one ever says no. Some of them even hit on you and tell you your smile is really pretty. And it's rarely creepy. There's this crazy community of always-there people, and we identify each other when we're elsewhere. Like at rallies or poetry slams when someone walks up to you and says "hey, I see you at bean around the world all the time!" and it's a good thing baybee. I love my Bean Around The World, with it's storage loft and chicken-on-a-surfboard, chinese lanterns and maps of 1883 Victoria on tables, the phone booth phone and the safe home feeling you get from being there all cozy. ~gabrielle Okay, so there's this thing that happens to you once you start working in a coffeeshop. That is, you become snotty about the kind of coffee you drink. No more can you go up and order any ordinary coffee... nope, not a chance. See, you have to stride into the coffeehouse, swaying your hips and looking careless and classy. Then you walk up to the counter, look the person right in the eyes, and order fancy shit like "a double vanilla mocha with whipped cream", or "a triple skim latte", or "a single espresso". For warmer days, there's the "triple mocha frappe" or "jet tea". The more complicated it sounds, the better. The fancier it looks, even better. So you get your coffee, and you flash one of your winning smiles and stride out of the place like you own the world. At least, I do. I'm just admitting it now!
Who here works at a coffeehouse?
Who here hangs out at coffeehouses, pretending to be an intellectual misfit among men and reading bad poetry?
Who here drinks coffee? And what kind?
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