Preface: I recognize this is sort of a pitiful post. It’s all about Starbucks and probably reads more like an advertisement than a blog entry. But hey–the blog title is The Caffeinated Priest, so, dear reader, surely you expect an occasional rant about my favorite addiction, right? Okay. Read on.
Starbucks, for better or worse, is a constant in my life. I was in a Starbucks last week, not my usual one, and I ran into a friend from a Diocesan committee. We were chatting and she was asking what I was doing in the neighborhood and as I was explaining, I heard myself say “I’m not usually a parishioner at this Starbucks.” My worlds collide sometimes more than others.
Yesterday I walked to work and stopped in, as I often do on Sunday mornings, to my favorite Starbucks in all of Chicago. It’s right around the corner from my house and Sara, the manager, and her baristas run a great shop. Say what you will about the quality of Starbuck’s coffee and the fact that I’m supporting a big-box coffee shop–what I love about Starbucks is this particular shop. I’m clear that I pay for the Starbuck’s experience as much as the coffee. I love that for a few minutes of my day there are people who know me, are kind to me and who give me a great cup of coffee, just the way I like it.
Anyway….yesterday was, as I’m sure you know, Daylight Savings Time, the dreaded Spring Forward. After a long but wonderful working weekend with no day off, and on less than 4 hours sleep, I trudged into my favorite Starbucks. Fully decked out in my Sunday morning best, bright white collar wrapped around my neck, I walked up to the counter and looked at all three baristas and said: “Don’t you just HATE this day?”. Their eyes all got really big. There was this big, long, awkward pause. And then I got it. “No! No!” I cried, “not Sunday. Love Sunday. Don’t you hate Daylight Savings Time and that horrid leap forward?”. “Oh” they said as they collectively began to breathe again. (Today they tell me that they told the story all day long of the priest who, at first pass, appeared to hate Sunday mornings.)
We’re half way through Lent and boy do I need a lot of coffee these days. I’m grateful for my local baristas.