Brian's Coffee Shop

Recently, I visited a Starbucks Coffee Shop in downtown Spokane. It was a cold night, ten degrees below freezing. I went in looking to read and waste some time before I headed to pick up my fiance at the airport.

I sat down near the door with my cup of coffee and my book and began to read. Before I had time to start, I was interrupted by the scene of a homeless man searching the shop for a place to sit. The downtown Starbucks is open until midnight, and it was obvious that the gentleman was trying to get out of the cold for a bit. I watched as he searched unsuccessfully for a seat, then he began to talk to the customers. I couldn't hear the conversations, but I could see the looks in the eyes of the people; the disgust, the leaning away from the man, the lack of acknowledgement.

Enter the Starbucks supervisor. Aggressive. Loud. "Get out of here. You know you can't be in here." As he moved to the door, I began to hear his plea.

"Just looking for a cup of coffee."

I spoke up, with "He just wants a coffee right?" As I stood to talk to the man, who was now outside, the woman, still fairly angry turned back in. I introduced myself, and said I would like to buy him a cup. When I went to the register, the same woman met me and responded to my order of another coffee.

"Don't you know you're just encouraging them?"

I don't know if it was the tone of her voice. The contempt. The anger in her eyes. Disdain.

But I became frustrated. "It's 20 degrees outside, and I'm supposed to regret helping a man to get a cup of coffee?"

She refuses to serve me. I'm a paying customer. My fiance works at Starbucks.

I ask her name. She refuses that as well.
Go figure.

Starbucks sets up a store in the middle of an urban, poor area, keeps it's doors open when the temperature drops well below freezing, then becomes aggressive when an individual tries to seek some comfort from the invasive cold.

I understand the arguments. I understand the business.

But I refuse to stop understanding man.

Cross the street. 7-11. A different cup of coffee, but the same look. The same disdain from the eyes of the attendant as Brian waits, and watches. Through the glass. Through the cold.