I hate Starbucks with the passionate intensity of a thousand burning suns. I hate Starbucks with every fiber of my being because they took something good and pure, and bastardized it into a washed-out, sterilized corporate version of its former glory built for the one singular purpose of generating the most revenue at the least expense. The inherent stink of false atmosphere coupled with over-prized drinks labeled in hilariously faux sizing intended to appeal to the teeming millions of sheeple rub me in all the wrong directions. And worse still, the bean-burning juggernaut has left the real deal, the concept from witch this doppelganger emerged from, all but extinct.

I want an atmosphere with a just the right amount of grime around the edges; a few wayward grounds on the floor, messy piles of yesterday’s newspaper, and razor thin coatings of dust on the window sills let you know there are other priorities than sterile conformity. I want a real atmosphere; not one masterfully put together to look inviting but secretly designed to increase customer turnover time.

I want a real person behind the counter not a smiling throng of true believers rallying for the corporate cause, espousing thinly veiled cheap slogans and the virtues of over-priced branded merchandise. I don’t need a fancy barista who attended company-mandated training. I want a college kid trying to make ends meet who won’t try to upsell my short cappuccino with flavor shots, because if I wanted flavored syrup I would have ordered it in the first place. Further more, I certainly wouldn’t try to mix it with a cappuccino. A latte? Possibly. A mocha? Definitely. But certainly not the most hallowed and simple mixture of coffee and hot milk.

I don’t want to be looked down upon for ordering the smallest size and sipping for flavor rather than gulping from a cylinder shaped trough to feed a sugar and caffeine addiction.

I want dim. I want freshly baked from scratch. I want a pile of empty mugs and small crumb crusted plates sitting in the bus bucket. I want to revel in a grandma sitting next to a punk across from a bookish student who reads textbooks kitty corner to a counter culture group playing cards in the corner next to a couple killing time before their movie begins. I want an environment not thick with merchandise. I want everything that is not Starbucks, because I hate Starbucks.