Pleasures of Franchises

I’m not sure when it occurred. It came as a reality to me only in spurts and slithers: meaningless chatter over coffee; a heated debate over a final supper. But from where did this hatred emerge? What sinister acts produced such an embittered response?

Why do people so dislike American franchises?

I personally find this a hard thing to fathom. Intellectually, I find it hard to get worked up over a logo that represents a stock price that represents a group of company executives almost half a world away. Practically, does my own act of corporate defiance really count as a body blow against their ultimate economic gain? In my own head maybe but can the CEO actually see me shaking my fist at him when he reads a spreadsheet? Would s/he even care?

An American “friend” of mine, J, was one of the first of these new breeds of people who hated the American franchise. On my first trip to LA, I was enamoured with a new coffee chain that I encountered: Starbucks. Located directly across from my hotel room, this bastion of coffee and cakes became a daily ritual for breakfast: a fresh coffee, brisk sunshine, me and my book. In fact, wherever I went I would make a point of visiting and photographing my visits to these houses of coffee. It became a running joke between T and I that I was on the Starbucks tour of LA.

However, J was none to pleased when I innocently suggested one morning that we get a coffee. Little did I know of the crimes of this corporate giant and listened with horror as J exposed my newly found home away from home. So it was with decidedly less relish that I sipped on my cappuccino and tried not to feel like I had personally plundered and ripped off the coffee growers of the world.

J however was only one in a long line of people who on my return to Oz began preaching about their celibacy from the corporate giants of American greed that were invading Sydney. They marked with horror the mushroom like explosion of Starbucks in every suburb and the menace of Krispy Kreme on the street corners and suburban shopping centres. I continued, unaffected and fuelled the monster. Was I the only one who did not see the impending danger?

Time went by, Starbucks and Kispy Kreme went from abhorrent to average and slowly these friends drifted away. I still feed the monster but do I still not get it? Maybe the monster seduced me with her false promises of equity and ethical practice. Maybe I have lied to myself so many times that I can no longer spot it. Maybe I was born too cynical to even try to fix it. Or maybe, just maybe, there is beauty in the beast.

Ode to Starbucks (2009)

I have followed the green mermaid
Across continents and cities
Searched for her through malls and shopping centres
Looked longingly at her from across lights and in darkened shadows
Visited hourly, daily, weekly:
Addicted to her decorated cups, recycled holders and sweet bagels
Lining up in weather foul or fair, queues long or empty
Craving, needing, impatient, demanding.

Oh how I hate you!
Your monotonous menu bores me
Your prices offend my common sense
Your standard furniture so stale and ungainly

Yet I cannot live without
The comforting certainty of caramel macchiato on demand
Your clean and comfortable décor
The pleasant air of chatter, coffee and gossip

Oh joyful monotony
May you live forever unchanged