just in case you wondered if they sold coffee in a coffee shop

Those who go to Starbucks regularly will appreciate this overheard comment by a barrista:

No, don’t spray it. Don’t spray it! You will eliminate the coffee scent. You’ll be written up.

I really just wanted some lemonade.

Ah, summertime. Today was the first true promise of warm weather to come. Even though I have to coop myself up with work indoors, my walk to and from school provides a nice chance to get outside, and on the way home I passed a lemonade stand.

Here is what I saw: four kids mingling on the sidewalk, laughing, walking in circles around each other, talking loudly. In the grass facing the sidewalk sat a table with a stack of red plastic cups.

As I approached, one boy took a seat quietly in the grass facing the sidewalk in front of the table. Two girls sat behind the table, and another boy stood in the grass in front of the table. I've been trying to guess ages lately and I think they were all between 5 and 7 years old. As I approached, they all looked ahead, not quite at me, and in expectant silence.

Luckily, I had change in my pocket.

ME: So what's going on here?
Standing boy: [now hands in pockets beginning to meander past me] I'm not doing this.
ME: Oh, you're not? [to girls at table] How much for a cup?
One girl: 50¢ a cup. All proceeds go to the Red Cross. We don't keep any of the money.

Sure enough, now standing in front of the table, I read a sign on one of the red cups in kid handwriting: "Lemonade 50¢, all proceeds donated to the Red Cross"

ME: [reaching for change] Well OK I'll have a cup.
Other girl: We ran out of lemonade and had to make more. They're inside making it right now. We'll have it out in about five minutes.

What's funny to me is that this girl said this in a manner as if I would first pay, then wait. Like at Starbucks when they dump all the coffee out every hour in order to make a new pot. You pay, then sit down and wait for the brand new coffee. Not something I really mind, except that this was a lemonade stand tended by 6 year olds in the grass. What would I do, mingle with someone's Dad who was now talking with the meandering boy?

ME: Well, how about I just donate 50 cents to your cause?
Girl: OK!

So I gave them 50 cents (in dimes not quarters, because I need the quarters) and moved on my way. After I passed, I heard:

Sitting boy: Yes!
Girl: [calling to me] You can come back later for the lemonade!
ME: Ok, thank you!

Discussion: The lemonade stand is this representational throwback to times gone by (I still love Schultz's take on the whole thing), where children learn the lessons of capitalism right in their own front yards. While I understand the deeper lessons in laissez-faire here, I can never pass up a lemonade stand. Something about the innocence of children that just somehow works. I'd bet in some places or at some times they actually compete with local panhandlers*.

What gets me (besides the absence of a product) is the charity bit. Is this the new 21st century lesson for kids? Be altruistic, donate your extra money, or even better go out and earn the money in order to then donate. Are we learning the value of fund raising for a cause at the same time as or as a precursor to market competition? Or is this the new competition - I mean what if another lemonade stand down the street was donating proceeds to the Komen Foundation? Which would I choose? (here's a hint, but the point is that I'm now a marketable consumer)

* I wonder how they'd fare if the sign on the cup read, "All proceeds to the guy sitting outside Chipotle right now"

When did they start gluing the sleeves to Starbucks cups?

There are lots of coffee shops in our neighborhood. Starbucks was just the closest one to our old apartment building. I also found it a great place to study. Anymore, I go elsewhere, because we live closer to a couple of other shops now. So I haven't been back to the old Starbucks for maybe a month or so. This week it worked out to be the most convenient place to stop for afternoon coffee. The visit was short, but it was nice to see the workers again.

When I got to school and had settled at my desk, I noticed the top of Opus' head on the cup. Opus! On a Starbucks cup? I always pegged Berkeley Breathed as one of those anti-Starbucks types. Generally I find that these types are once-anti-Starbucks always-anti-Starbucks, so it was refreshing to see this. Of course I would be much more impressed if Calvin and Hobbes appeared on the cup, but I think the reasons that wouldn't happen go way beyond any redemption (or not) of Starbucks. I take them to be more generally anti-corporate.

Anyway, a pithy quote balancing structure and agency I finally found - but only after first discovering that the company now glues their sleeves to the cup. When did they start doing this? Well it was very aggravating, as you notice three tear marks, two on the cup and one on the sleeve itself.

In case you're killing time, here are some posts from other blogs (and flickr too) about Starbucks cups.

The most surprising thing that happened all year

That I am in Starbucks is not surprising, though it would have been had you told me this five years ago. What is surprising is that I just got a free cup of coffee.I ordered a grande coffee and they were making a new pot*. I waited, and then got the coffee for free for having to wait. Not only that, but they gave me a venti** to boot. Of course, this doesn’t help with my supposed New Year’s resolution of cutting back on coffee.

Not surprising is the set list for the Starbucks Radio XM piped in jazz music.Three times this week I’ve heard “It's Coming on Christmas” followed by “It’s Too Darn Hot." Not to be literal, but Christmas is over and its still hovering around 30 degrees in Chicago.

* Starbucks makes a new pot of coffee every single hour, according to a timer hanging on the spout. It doesn’t matter how much coffee they sell – no cup of coffee will be more than an hour old, no matter how much waste that entails.
** Translation for the corporate coffee chain impaired: espresso = small; tall = medium; grande = large; venti = extra large.

It's coming on Christmas

Halloween is over, and today I heard my first Christmas song. Christmas! In piped-XM Radio at Starbucks, but still Christmas music. It was Joni Mitchell, The River.

Now, arguably this is not a Christmas song. Yet, it is the first time this calendar year that I have heard the word "Christmas" put to music. As a reminder, here are the first four lines (or read them all):

It's coming on christmas
They're cutting down trees
They're putting up reindeer
And singing songs of joy and peace

Now, the station was playing the entire Blue album, which actually is not a Christmas album. But then why wasn't Starbucks playing this album before Halloween? They're easing us into it slowly, I say.

Sociology of Daylight Savings Time

Ok, so this isn't really that sociological, even by this blog's standards. I'd probably have to look at time-use surveys on DST weekends, analyzing them across categories of race, class, gender, and sexuality. That seems like a longshot, so I'll stick with my one observation of the weekend.

Every Hour is a Totally Free, Unaccounted For, Extra Hour of Time in My Weekend! Is this true for anyone else? Every single time this weekend I normally would skip something due to perceived time constraints, I instead thought, “But actually, it’s still noon. I have plenty of time for a nap.” Or “I might as well go shopping today, since I have an extra hour this weekend.”

Here are the things that I did this weekend, thanks to Daylight Savings Time:

Aforementioned nap
Aforementioned shopping trip (Method cleaning supplies at Target)
Worked on my field exam!
Watched PBS (Pink Panther Strikes Again & a Tribute to Steve Martin)
Morning Walk
Morning library time
Called a friend
Extra hour at the coffee shop (ok, Starbucks)
Found time to write this blog entry
Cleaned the bathroom (using you know what cleaner)

In all, I estimate that this weekend held about 26 more hours than a normal weekend. God I love Daylight Savings Time.

FAQ: What does "sociology of" mean?
sociologies of everyday life: church parking, Memorial Day camping, nephew's birthday party, World Cup, Dora Candyland, haircut, port-o-potty, Indigo Girls concert at Ravinia, music blog titles, Route 80/90, trapeze lessons, the zoo, Army Slogans

everyday sexism

Prologue. We've got a really old CD player. The kind that doesn't play burned cd's from Musicmatch jukebox. And since we are planning a long road trip on Tuesday, I'm burning some music. Only I can't get the disks to play in said old player. I walked out to the car to get the diskman - which is parked on a side street. Because hey, if songs don't play on the for-the-car discman*, then all is hopeless.
Overheard at the Starbucks, of which I usually cut through their patio because trusty blue Saturn is just around the corner: I didn't catch who the commenter was, but I think he was an older white man. He was sitting at a black outdoor metal patio table. The barrista, today a young blonde woman with designer-looking-to-me red glasses, was stacking up one metal table onto another one.

Man: Hey, that's not too bad, you're going to get some muscles!
Woman: Well, when you work at a place like this [pauses][pause again] You'll get muscular.

Subtle, maybe. Perhaps the man will say that he was just being friendly. Perhaps the woman will say that too. But I can't help but think, maybe she already has muscles. If it was a man barrista, the comment might have been more like, "Hey, they got the right person for that job."

Just a little gendered critique of everyday conversation for you.

* Ok, not to mention the entomology and possible continuing significance of diskman