Yesterday, I had the unfortunate privilege of having to meet someone for coffee at a very, very trendy, hipster coffee shop. Whether it’s in the Arts District here in LA or Williamsburg in Brooklyn, these shitty hipster coffee shops have been taking over, and I really can’t stand it.
First of all, in what world is it reasonable to pay $9 for a cup of coffee? I drink my coffee hot and black and if I see a black coffee cost any more than $2.50, I immediately leave the establishment. Give me a nice, hot black coffee for a buck fifty at Dunkin’ 9/10 times. Gets the job done and still tastes amazing.
You see, I want my coffee served to me by an immigrant who understands work ethic. Someone who’s been at the shop since 3:30am. Not some asshole, beanie-wearing barista with a pencil thin mustache who’s biggest gripe in this world is having to pay off a $35,000 student loan for an arts degree. These pretentious as fuck baristas really rub me the wrong way.
Also, these places take fucking forever. I always order the same damn thing; a hot, black coffee. And I’ve never not had to wait less than thirty-two minutes for my single fucking drink. What the hell takes them so long? Are they flying to Guatemala and harvesting the beans for every order?!? It’s called a “Morning Joe” for a reason, I want to go ahead and get my morning started! Go! Go! Go! Jesus Christ, if I wanted to wait a half-hour for my caffeine fix, I would’ve just eaten the beans raw.
This excerpt was taken from the coffee place that I went to yesterday, “Born from a love of process and everyday quality, we are inspired by all things analog and the simplicity of good coffee. We believe that quality does not have to be austere and that tradition can be respected as well as re-imagined. Our coffee is made with intention, balance, and a love for the ritual of a well-made coffee.”
Yeah, I get it, your coffee is sourced from the rural hybrid of two remote villages in Colombia…. And that’s great, but you don’t need to take an hour to explain to me your philosophy about coffee, just serve me the damn drink. If it’s going to take longer for me to figure out what the hell I’m trying to order, than to actually drink the beverage, I’m out.
I think the Italians have it right. All you need is a little corner shop with some pastries, run by an eternally frustrated owner. Waltz in, put a coin in the slot, the man serves you a freshly pulled shot of espresso, shoot it down, and be on your merry way. None of this aesthetic bullshit.
And also, all these third-wave coffee shops are like seriously impossible to do work in. One, because they are full of smelly, un-hygienic hipsters (just because you shower using organic beeswax soap, doesn’t mean it actually does anything. You still smell like manure, which is fitting actually because I think you bought that flannel secondhand off a dairy farmer from Fresno). And two, the furniture is so ridiculously minimalist and uncomfortable. Ever try to sit down for an extended length of time on a bowling ball? Well lucky for you, all the furniture in every trendy-hipster coffee spot looks like someone raided an IKEA and stole half the parts for the furniture. Oh yeah, that chair isn’t supposed to have a back, you just gotta lean awkwardly against the wall, with your feet on this wooden bench and your laptop plugged into the exposed beam in the concrete ceiling, because that’s the only outlet we have.
Believe me, I love to support local business. But a business that cares more about aesthetic than the actual experience of the consumer, isn’t a business at all. It’s a self serving art gallery, that just so happens to sell unnecessarily expensive food. Essentially the art house film of coffee. Just give me a Dunkin.