A Starbucks' Christmas Carol -- Part One

A Starbucks' Christmas Carol
Chapter One

To begin with, the Marleys were dead.
They were as dead as doornails.
They had been rotting in their graves for years.
Their obituaries were written in the Seattle Times.
The next time they moved would be the day of resurrection.
Their bodies lay decomposing in the earth, filled with worms and insects of all kinds.

To repeat: they were as dead as doornails.

Not that our story begins in the graves of Bob and Barb Marley, but it is an important fact to keep in mind as you read this tale.
Now to the point, our story begins in the little Ohio village of Montgomery where Alexander Scrooge existed, worked, and managed one of the busiest Starbucks stores in the world.

Day after day, night after night he toiled and labored to prepare the right beans for the customer. If one barista made the tiniest of mistakes concerning the weight of a Cappuccino, or the height of the foam in a caramel macchiato, or the number of vanilla pumps in a hot chocolate they would be thrown out of the store, never to work as a barista again.

Alexander Scrooge was a formidable task-master. He had been this way even in the early days of the company when his two friends, Bob and Barb Marley, also worked as shift leaders at the first Starbucks ever in Seattle, Washington. Bob, Barb, and Alex had put the beans under the grinder for far too long when they began to do the same thing to their baristas.

No longer did he care about the Fair Trade organizations promoted by Starbucks, no longer did he care about donating leftover food to the homeless shelter down the road, nor did he care any longer for the baristas under his management who were starving from a lack of hours and a lack of appropriately divided tips. He would always snap back at them, “I know how many pastries you have ’broken’ so you can eat them! Instead of eating you should be selling! Enough! I will divide the tips as I deem appropriate.”

Week after week, month after month, the Starbucks baristas worked under this maniacal man. Where else could they work? What other coffee shop would Scrooge allow to employ them if they left his service?

One day a young woman, unaware of the horrendous situation regarding Mr. Scrooge, came to inquire after donations for the food bank. She knew that other Starbucks’ shared leftover pastries. She was confused as to why Alex Scrooge was not participating.

Before the question left her lips, Scrooge was upon her. He could smell a request for a good deed from a mile away. “FOOD for the poor? MY PROFITS for your pathetic POOR?! Get out.”

“But, sir, you only throw the old pastries away. You cannot possibly have a need for them.”

“What?! WHAT did you say? We throw them away?! We have no NEED for them?!! Madam, if even ONE pastry is left on the shelf when we close, my baristas must buy them out of their own paychecks.”

“Mr. Scrooge! That is unethical!”

“Unethical, did you say? Indeed not. It is called, ‘motivation to sell.’ I rarely see a day when any pastries are left – to give to your ailing poor.”

“Perhaps the kind neighbors in this area take pity on the baristas and buy the pastries to keep their friends from financial harm.”

“HAH! Unlikely! Now, GET OUT!”

“But sir, what joy it would bring to the heart of someone who was not expecting anything on Christmas to receive a special gift from you. Won’t you help your fellow man?”

“You want me to help my fellow man?! Look around, look at what I am providing for my fellow man: a drink that keeps up his energy so he can be a slave to his duties at work.”

At this point, Scrooge, who had been polishing his espresso machine, walked around the counter and proceeded to escort the lady to the door.
“But people are dying of hunger!”

“Well, if they are going to die they better do it quickly and decrease our carbon footprint!”

With that, Alex Scrooge opened the door and threw the lady out. All barista eyes were on him, for those were the only eyes left in the café. No patron ever lingered in the café. They came to support their friends and then left as quickly as possible, never wanting to encounter Alexander Scrooge. If anyone DID stay it was only the wealthiest of business men who lingered. They were Scrooge’s type and he welcomed them gladly.

“What are you STARING at?! Get back to your duties! Are the pumps washed? Has the sanitizer water been changed? Where are the new carafes?! GET TO YOUR DUTIES!! Or else you’ll be buying the unused coffee as well!”

The baristas had been encouraged by the sight of such human caring and love as shown in the young woman. Many were beginning to doubt the purpose of their lives and their positions at Starbucks. How could they bear to go on? But, they were not willing to gamble the risk of choosing to quit.