The Field Guide to the Customers of Starbucks

Beatiful Love (Take 2) - Bill Evans

(Note: This is a rewriting of one of my very old blog posts)

Quick, answer me. Can you recommend a place for social gathering? 

Starbucks? Ha, I thought so. 

Indeed, having conversations in a coffee shop is a great way to spend time with your friends, but have you ever gone there alone? Try it, it's fun! As long as there are many other customers, you can observe them until you forget the passing of time. 

At first, you'll find that classifying Starbucks's customers can be difficult. All of them (okay, most of them) talk loudly, act like an idiot and dress as though they're either going to a red carpet or going commando. Fear not, because with experience, you can discern their varieties. Based on my unscientific but entirely self-sufficient, sexy, and insulting-but-accurate findings, I have written this guide hoping to assist you in seeing the differences among the species (multiplying) in the land of Starbucks. 

The Techie

Identification. The Techie thinks Starbucks is an expo. You can spot one with a smart phone, iPhone, PSP, MacBook, Cybershot, iPod, and car-key-for-an-SUV scattered on the table. The Techie will not only display personal belongings, but also, with excellent voice modulation, announce them. You have to give The Techie credits though; at least The Techie is doing favors for the customers in case they go blind. I mean, hearing The Techie advertise personal belongings as if writing checklists, that is IMPORTANT! Do you agree (Y/N)?

Sample speech. “Look, my iPhone is slick!”, “My Cybershot is slick!”, “My iPod is slick!”, “My SUV is slick!”… 

The Yuppie 

Identification. With optimistic plans, The Yuppie (different to lowercased yuppie, who is simply a peripatetic person wearing impractical [and smelly] attires) believes in living the multimillionaire life by, first, APPEARING like it. And what better place to “live the dream” by going to Starbucks and pretending it’s an office? The Yuppie often have their head (heads?) huddled at the laptop, with spreadsheets or Powerpoints open, to give a heady impression of being a busy and ambitious “career person”. EDIT: Curiously, The Yuppies are more of the be-seen-working types than the hardworking types.

Sample speech. “I’d like to direct your attention to my impactful presentation for cost-benefit plan that will reimburse your invested finances due to incentivized research conducted by opportune income of…” 

The Writer

Identification. Don’t shoot me I am NOT a writer! And I don’t bring laptops to Starbucks. The Writer (again, different to the lowercased one, who is simply a Bohemian who hugs a tattered dictionary when sleeping), on the other hand, does not only have a laptop handy, but also “writes” in the Starbucks just to impress a crowd, hoping a few attractive patrons will notice, as though writing is a performance arts. Do not classify those who scribble in their notepads as The Writer. In the word of The Writer “extraordinaire” Tim Yap, notepads are passé! 

Sample speech work. Waspy McWasp, the ruggedly handsome, world renowned Harvard professor of Oceanography is summoned to Europe to analyze the mysterious murder of a famous computer programmer. While there, he discovers evidence of the unimaginable - the definitive and substantial proof of cold fusion. He must work with Lara, the extremely beautiful and intelligent police detective, in order to beat the clock and unlock the mystery. (source) 

The Traveler 

Identification. I’ve never seen this myself, but my friend spotted The Traveler numerous times. The Traveler will go on an expedition, with the approximate distance of Zulu to Maguindanao, just for a sip at Starbucks. In my friend’s case, she saw a Traveler dash out of St. Paul QC to Tomas Morato’s Starbucks during an hour of lunch break. 

Apparently a species that are either extinct, or have “exported” to other groups from this guide, since Starbucks are now everywhere. 

Sample speech. None, as I’ve never been around them. 

Frapsters

Identification. Ever drank plain, no-cream, no-sugar and no-cocoa coffee? Yes? So do you think they’re too dark and bitter? Yes again? I have news for you then: that, which we call the blended coffee, is what coffee is really meant to taste like, same way as real tea is not served with sugar. 

Starbucks has a predominantly frappucino-sipping crowd, as though the coffee shop is instead a halo-halo salon. Granted, blended coffee is an acquired taste, and I’m not suggesting that you must try it. But you know who cracks me up? Frapsters. Frapsters are different in that they say they LOVE coffee but only choose to drink Frappucino, i.e. coffee with added milk, crushed ice and too-much calories. They’re annoying in the same way as *those people who say they listen to classical music because they like Maksim* are. 

The following can replace the asterisked statement. Self-proclaimed jazz fans who only listen to Kenny G. Batman haters who only saw the Adam West shows. Miles Davis name-dropper who has never heard of the Kind of Blue album. Holier-than-thou Bible-thumpers who actually live in avarice. 

Frap-touters

Identification. Could anything be more irritating than that Frapster-whippersnapper who can’t shut up about ordering frappes? Frap-touter is the frapster-demigod who treats Frappucino like it’s a trophy, such that frap-touter will take pictures holding or drinking frappes. Said person would even bring home empty frappe cups (along with Starbucks amenities and flyers) like it’s a trophy. 

Sample speech. “Picture tayo! Picture tayo! Smile!” (spoken to the frappucino cup)

The Beauty Pageant

Identification. Don’t trouble yourself wondering whether The Beauty Pageant (TBP) has won or not. What matters is that TBP NEEDS to go to Starbucks all-dressed up and to take pictures there to frame the occasion. I hear some TBP’s say coffee tastes better with gowns and tuxedos. Maybe that’s what they call “coffee dressings”.

Sample speech. Oy, priorities! You should be looking at them instead of listening to them, because whatever they mutter are unintelligible white noises.

Coffeetariats

Identification. Most likely nurses. Or call center workers. Or underpaid programmers (yeouch!). Like the no-frills proletariats, Coffeetariats are those who sell labors to survive. Unlike the no-frills proletariats, Coffeetariats spends more of their daily wages in Starbucks than in their lunch, and they do it (semi-)regularly as though they’re under rituals.

Sample speech. “Once minutes, my frappe are coming!” and so and so. If you hear anyone trying to talk Yankee but ends up sounding bucolic, you’re hearing a Coffeetariat. 

The Linguist

Identification. A coffetariat’s “worse enemy”, The Linguist is the schoolmarm “elitist” who nitpicks the grammar of every Starbucks conversation. The Linguist is a self-proclaimed “renowned grammarian” who likes to insert “French du jour”, but mostly speak in an amalgam of English and Tagalog, preferably with the English word overstressed.

Sample speech. (Google “Tim Yap” or “Malu Fernandez”).

The Ladykillaz!

Identification. Oh yay, TEH CONV3N14NC3, I can finally use pronouns LOLZ! As you may have surmised, The Ladykillaz is a guy who writes for a men’s magazine (or a guy under the pretense of it). He tries to attract attractive crowds by engaging in “intelligent” conversations about erogenous areas, posing as a stimulant of intellect when he’s in reality stimulating something else. And if he manages to impress, expect the girls he is with, and promptly dumped the next morning, to be “samples” for his new write-up at FHM or UNO or a blog. Thank you girls for being credulous, for the Ladykillaz’s thrive! Viva sophistication, viva progress!

Sample speech. (Err, I’m trying to make my blog not-NSFW.)

Dudes

Identification. This is the inevitable and over-modulated dudespare guys who wear the “jacket without a cause” (can someone please tell me what practical reasons are there for wearing jackets in this country?). It’s not like Starbucks has frigid ventilations (quite the opposite) yet these dudes come with jacket + sunglasses + hiphop DJ gesticulations in an attempt to look cool. Meanwhile they try upping their “street cred” by shout-bragging their blingblings, cribs, rides and girls and their updated FHM knowledges to sound urban (read: gangsta). He’d also try to appear intelligent by engaging in some “controversial” Dan Brown discussion, quoting Paolo Coelho for added touch and citing (just citing) Pablo Neruda for the “deathblow”. The good thing about dudes is that he’ll update you about car shows. The bad thing is that, well, good luck finding peace and quiet when he’s around. Diba, Vandolph?

My speech to them. Yo homey, watchoo doin hollerin LOUD? We be seeking quiet in dis ere coffee shops, punks, coz we ain’t got chillax, and warz in da streets, nawmean? Dis why you gotta pacify, dawg, coz we ain’t gone flyt with no posers, y’hear! Peace out, bro, riprizent!

Mooncake

Gaze at tonight's sky. If it won't be cloudy, you will see the moon shining very intensely.

Chinese tradition marks today as the Mid-Autumn festival, an annual holiday that celebrates the time of the year when the moon is at its brightest. You will see us, Chinese, following (or celebrating) various regional customs (in Philippines, we play dice games) and eating a few mooncakes, a Chinese pastry made to mark the occasion. 

Foreigners may find it intriguing why we hold this day with high reverence. The Moon is very bright today, so? Are we into lunar worship, or is there another story? 

Indeed, the brightness of tonight's moon has inspired many tales. I am going to tell you the most well-known one.

During the reign of Emperor Yao, ten suns took turns in illuminating the Earth. On one unfortunate day, however, all suns had since rose together and shone simultaneously. Because of the extreme heat, people suffered from starvation, as water was dehydrated and no crop was harvested. 

Houyi, an ace archer, emerged. His skills were peerless, and he could even hit and destroy celestial bodies. To save the earth, Houyi shot down 9 suns, leaving 1 to retain earth’s daylight.

The whole world praised Houyi for his heroism, and he was made the king of China. Soon, however, Houyi became greedy and power-hungry. He became a despot. Alas, no force could resist the near-omnipotent Houyi, whose only weakness was age.

As Houyi grew, he noticed his once tremendous strength was beginning to wane. Fearful of ever relinquishing his position, he hired doctors to devise an elixir of life. It will restore his vitality and will make him live forever. 

The doctors succeeded and they delivered the medicine to the palace. But Houyi wasn’t in the palace then. Because Jang’e, Houyi’s beautiful wife (side note: unrelated to Jang Geum), didn’t want the world to forever be subjected to Houyi’s tyranny, she took this opportunity and drank the elixir. 

To her surprise, she began to float until she reached the moon. When Houyi heard of this, he was devastated. He aimed his arrow to the moon, but, because of his love to his wife, he didn’t shoot. 

And so, Houyi’s natural death ended his rule. His people remember him both fondly and hatefully. Fondly because Houyi once saved the world when it was scorching. Hatefully because he ruled it with an iron fist. 

Jang’e has, however, endured in memory with the world’s unanimous reverence, as a woman who was selfless, loving and kind. She sacrificed herself for the sake of all, by drinking the very elixir that disguised its true intent: a means to expel Houyi from Earth.

In every mid-autumn, the moon is at its brightest. It is the day when Jang’e, the woman who roams in the moon eternally, is at her most beautiful. We celebrate this day, and we eat mooncakes, as a toast to her. 

Happy mid-autumn festival, everyone! 

Ruby, My Dear - Thelonious Monk

Mental Block

The adage is that time heals wounds, but can time heal mental blocks? How, then, does one account the eventual downfall and oblivion of one-hit wonders?

Mental block is very bothersome if one spends each day doing things that need mental faculties. The brain is subjugated by hazes. Getting to do anything is like researching inside a smoggy library. Worse still, like migraine, the cause of mental block has for centuries dumbfounded scientists. Yeah, I made the last statement on the fly, but I'm sure that's actually the case. ^_^

When it strikes, even if I tried to think, all I can come out with are incoherent words or phrases.

I'm too busy on top of having this stupid mental block (It's been two weeks now, but I haven't felt any improvements). Like my brain, my life has become disorganized.  To speak thereof, I've been trying to write, design, read and program, but my effectivity has reached an all time low.

I need a resolution. I am a man who wants more skills. Of the moment, I want to be able to work with Flash and Illustrator. I also want to polish my writing. And then, there's drawing, which is also an essential skill if I want to be able to create beautiful vector arts (essentially what Flash and Illustrator is meant for). The worst part is that I have to cram all these in my already tight schedule, and my work has nothing to do with any of the above skills that I'm trying to develop. Am I an overachiever? Maybe the more appropriate term is "over-daydreamer".

So what do I need? Well, first of all, my mind badly needs to go back to its optimal state. How I wish it could come sooner.

And believe me, that's the only half-assed concluding sentence I could come up with. Did this blog make sense? The more appropriate statement should be: When is the last time I ever made sense of anything?

Book Survey

I apologize for neglecting this blog, for I have been busy and too tired to write.

Anyway, I found this survey, and thought of posting it along with my answers to fill in the state of silence this blog is currently "enjoying".

1) One Book that made you read it More Than Once: I've read Alan Moore's Batman: The Killing Joke plenty of times now.

2) One book you would want on a desert island: A survival handbook is the most practical choice.

3) One book that made you laugh: The Dilbert Principle by Scott Adams

4) One book that made you cry: None, but would you believe that I nearly cried reading a Doraemon short?

5) One book that made you wish you had written: The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold, so I can rewrite one awful chapter.

6) One book that made you you wish had never been written: Digital Fortress by Dan Brown X-(

7) One book you are currently reading: Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami

8) One book you have been meaning to read: Quite a few: Ulysses, Ramayana, Things Fall Apart, and plenty of philosophy books.

9) One book that changed your life: An ancient Chinese text called San Shir In Guo Ching which roughly translates as Three Generations Karma Guide.

14 Random Peeves

1. Don't pronounce my surname as "Jao", ever.

2. Yes, I'm a vegetarian. That doesn't mean I'm ignorant as to be unaware that there's no such thing as a "Chicken Flavored Ice Cream". You're neither clever nor original in being able to come up with that "joke", because I've heard it a billion times, and it wasn't funny the first time.

3. No, I don't hate you, but I'm not applying to any Igenportals or other pyramid/"networking"/insert-vogue-jargon-synonymous-to-pyramiding companies. That's final.

4. When I ask hard questions (take, for example, "What is the source of suffering?") I want to hear well-composed thoughts and cases, and not easy answers. If that should take time, then use all the time necessary. Just don't feed me with platitudes. And security blanket (statements) MUST go to the laundry.

5. I can handle expletives, but I hate guys who cuss misogynistic remarks in the presence of women.

6. Emotion is not a fashion statement. Stop feeling so special when you get all depressed and suicidal.

7. You're not a writer just because you're an eventologist. For that matter, you're not an -ologist just because you specialize in something.

8. Stop pretending you're so sharp, panache-y, artistic and elite just because you know a few French phrases, monsieur.

9. When in movies and formal occasions, dammit, put your phone on silent, whippersnappers!

10. For the last time, Starbucks is not a techie expo!

11. Don't lecture me on how in watching a movie, instead of analyzing, I should just sit back and En-JOYYYY. That's the laziest justification, ever.

12. Don't send me any cheese-spirational or "cute" SMS's unless you're absolutely sure it's witty.

13. When I say I don't watch MTV, I don't mean I don't like music. I don't like watching someone flashing their bling-blings, pimping their rides and scoring strippers. I don't like watching someone grudging on some sort of garage while jumping around and wearing angst-y trash-everything facial expressions.

14. Those tight tanktops F4 wears are yucky. I can't stress that enough. 

Move On Up - Curtis Mayfield

Pavarotti Dies at 71

This is a great loss to the world of Opera music. I know he's been accused of being commercial, but he's undeniably talented, personable and effervescent. His is the few Reader's Digest celebrity interviews that I bothered reading.

Farewell, Pavarotti. May you rest in peace. I hear they serve wonderful pastas in Heaven (Try their Angel Hair).

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/entertainment/6981032.stm

Italian tenor Luciano Pavarotti has died at his home in the northern city of Modena, his manager has announced.

The singer, who was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer last year, was 71.

His charismatic performances - particularly alongside fellow tenors Placido Domingo and Jose Carreras - helped bring a new audience to opera.

Pavarotti had cancer surgery in July 2006 in New York, five months after his last performance. He had not made any public appearances since then.

He underwent five bouts of chemotherapy in the past year, and was admitted to hospital with a fever on 8 August. He was released two weeks later following diagnostic tests.

Fellow tenor Domingo said he had "always admired the God-given glory" of Pavarotti's voice.

Manager Terri Robson said in a statement that the tenor died at 0500 local time (0400 BST) on Thursday.

"The Maestro fought a long, tough battle against the pancreatic cancer which eventually took his life," she said.

"In fitting with the approach that characterised his life and work, he remained positive until finally succumbing to the last stages of his illness."

Pavarotti enjoyed 40 years on the world stage and became one of the world's biggest-selling artists.

His music reached far beyond the usual opera audience, particularly his signature tune Nessun Dorma, from Puccini's Turandot, which became associated with the 1990 football World Cup.

His performances with Domingo and Jose Carerras at this time - in the Three Tenors concerts - were seen around the world.

"We've reached 1.5 billion people with opera," Pavarotti told critics of the shows.

"If you want to use the word commercial, or something more derogatory, we don't care. Use whatever you want."

In a statement from Los Angeles, Domingo said he had fond memories of the Three Tenors shows.

"We had trouble remembering we were giving a concert before a paying audience, because we had so much fun between ourselves," he said.

Nessun Dorma was part of Pavarotti's final performance, at the opening of the Winter Olympics in Turin in February 2006.

London's Royal Opera House - where the tenor last performed in Tosca in January 2002 - called Pavarotti "one of the finest singers of our time".

"He was one of those rare artists who affected the lives of people across the globe in all walks of life," a statement said.

"Through his countless broadcasts, recordings and concerts he introduced the extraordinary power of opera to people who perhaps would never have encountered opera and classical singing, in doing so he enriched their lives. That will be his legacy."

Pavarotti was married to his first wife Adua, with whom he had three daughters, for 35 years until they split in 1996.

He then got together with his secretary Nicoletta Mantovani, who was 26 years old at the time. In 2003, they had been due to have twins, but only one survived, a daughter called Alice.

The couple married in a lavish, star-studded ceremony later that year.

Behind the Scenes

Moment's Notice - John Coltrane

Thank God they have left!

As of writing this, the CNA crew has just scampered away. I couldn't be more relieved!

The shooting didn't turn out as I expected. It wasn't grand and the host (if any) was rather low-key. Thank goodness, because I don't want to imagine how the guys in the office will act had the host been someone like Pia Guanio or Iya Villania (though I'd love to have Sam Oh come pay us a visit. She's the coolest host ever, and we know each other). I still HATE this experience. We were taut, and it felt very unnatural and suffocating. I was right in believing all along that with cameras on, we were nothing but thespians, putting on a show that we're more productive than we really are (and I can't say I'm free of guilt, as I played my role in this stupid facade). All along, I was thinking "I can't wait for everyone to act normal again."

Going through all this only fostered my belief that Reality TV isn't real or organic. Who's buying all the notion that the participants aren't putting a show anyway?

Something’s wrong…

It appears like I have posted "A Spot of Bother" before "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised". That's not true. The "Spot of Bother" entry should be from a later time.

Weird.

Anyway, this is the song that I quoted in that Television entry.

When You Are Who You Are (Gil Scott-Heron)

The Revolution Will Not Be Televised

Because our boss is a well-known photographer, he will be featured on a scoop. We, the employees, just received an announcement stating that CNA (Channel News Asia, a Singaporean cable channel) will be here in the office tomorrow morning.

And so we are required to be punctual and to do abso-positi-lutely nothing besides work the whole time, to project an illusion image that we are very productive.

Appearing on TV should make me as excited as someone about to give birth, but I couldn't care less even if it's CNN doing the scoop. I'm not a TV guy, and have this been local TV or Fox News, I might have erupted snide remarks, Tyler Durden style. Why do I hate TV so much? Because it's so fake! The materials there are screened, cut, edited and censored, until the only messages left are that the world is okay, the government is okay, life is one big beauty contest and that we should binge on mass-consumerism (all of these, of course, are mere skimmings of the surface). I don't need all these junk. Step into the real world and I'm always met by contradictions that are never televised.

Anyway, the last thing I need is to see my colleagues acting phony, with all these obligatory gussy-ups for a pursuit of fame. Alas, being around them has made me acutely aware of what they may do. They will dress grandiloquently and feign formality just to be mediagenic. And, of course, they'll pretend that everyone is in good terms and that there's no such a thing as cliques or demarcation - not the truth. That should be a sight to behold. Imagine, candor compromised by artificiality for the disguise of “pleasantry” (which is synonymous to “perfection”, which is always based on personal and cultural biases).

As for me, I wouldn't EVER trade my real identity for a made-for-TV mask. Lost in the marsh flooded by censorship, deception and dishonesty, I believe in sincerity, or in the immortal words of Gil Scott Heron, “You can be so very beautiful when you are who you are”. We are sheep, but let's not BAAAA to a deceitful shepherd, eh?

A Spot of Bother

You Know My Steez - Gang Starr

My prayer today went like this:

Dear Lord, forgive me for I have miscommunicated. When I posted yesterday's entry, I didn't sincerely mean I want to have another bad incident inside the bus. It was a sarcasm. 

I'm not having much luck with bus rides lately. Yesterday I was put in an awkward situation, but that's trifling compared to what happened today, which was just plain annoying.

Today's bus was quite unlike yesterday's. Each column of this one had two different chairs (there were two chairs on the left and on the right). They were comfortably spaced and had adequate leg rooms between different columns of seats. Things looked good, so I thought today's journey was going to be smooth. I was yet again proven wrong.

A person skinnier and smaller than I am took the next seat. As the bus moved, I started to notice that this guy was taking too much space. His legs were spread so wide that his knees would push mine aside, and he leaned considerably on my seat. Whenever I tried to nudge him back to his own space, he'd push me so he could be back to where he was. When I inched away from him, he'd take another mile. It's like he's totally gay for me. I couldn't even tell him to stop taking my space, because he had an earphone. To avoid body contacts with this annoying prick, I ended up being cramped way into the corner (as I was at the window seat).

What the hell is his problem? This wasn't even like a bus whose seats weren't clearly divided: as each columns had TWO chairs. I thought it should be pretty obvious how much space an individual should be occupying. Was he dense or what? If he was as big as Shaq I would understand, but he's not taller than me, so he definitely didn't need to take 30% of my space! Did he think that he was a king or something, lounging on two chairs like that? He's just plain irritating and obnoxious!

Damn, I'm so ticked off!

The Curious Incident of the Bus in the Night Time

Tuesday Heartbreak - Stevie Wonder

When riding a bus, I see a lot of oddities . For example, I am never a big fan of televisions, but constantly being on buses with built-in TV's allows me to catch the news, and they aren’t always pleasant - more often, they’re not. Also, because of the TV, I often glimpse recent teledramas. In fact I have seen snippets of Meteor Garden, and can conclude that Dao Ming Su has a bad sense of fashion (men in tight sleeveless shirt = YUCK!) and is a prick (note to self: act pissed-ly to the girl you love. She'll dig that!).

The drama that I witnessed today, however, did not require being fixated on a TV. At that moment, all I wanted to do as I got planted on the window seat of a 3-seated chair was to doze off. What followed proved that my choice of seat was the dumbest decision I've ever made.

If I am to continue this story by saying that a couple took the remaining seats from my chair, you'll have a vague idea at what all this is about. Besides me was a girl who resemble Katrina Halili, and besides her (ergo, two seats next from me) was someone who I presume is her boyfriend. For some reasons, the girl kept looking at my direction, and anyone with Lex Luthor's ego will mistake this as being taken interest of. My ego, on the other hand, wasn't enormous. I found it weird how she kept turning away from her boy. And then I realized: they had been quarreling, and was on the verge of creating a scene.

I tried to ignore them. I tried hard to close my eyes and be taken by the Sandman, but he wouldn't come. I felt that she had an aura of wrath and acerbity; so intense was it that all ebullient thoughts were suffocated. Seeing her treatment to her boy elucidated that what I felt wasn't entirely made up. She shunned when her boy tried to hold her hand in an attempted reconciliation. And to use the cliché, the silence between them was deafening. Where this left me was awake in the middle of Awkward-ville.

Another ride in the bus, another weird incident. Can I have another?