Starbucks catches a lot of flak for its ubiquitousness, $5 lattes, just-short-of-snobbish air, and the feeling you get that the person taking your order possesses two more graduate degrees than yourself. But when you get down to it, these are minor quibbles. The brainchild of Howie Schultz, like any other mega-successful venture, has hit upon something the public craves: caffeinated beverages that are as addictive as oxy, sports betting, and a Silk Stalkings marathon on TV all rolled into one (just trust me on that last one). Starbucks is just obliging our tastes. On my last visit to the Coffee Cathedral, it dawned upon me in a recent visit that maybe our issues don’t lie with Starbucks, but with the clientele.

I sometimes duck into my local Starbucks mid-mornings to fit in a bit of work if I need the Internet connection or a sudden deadline pops up. It’s obviously after the major morning rush, so the busy professionals have mostly cleared out. Yes, let’s just get it out the way right now: there will always be the irritating customers with the overly precious orders like a “tall, half-caff soy latte at 120 degrees” or a “triple, venti, half-sweet, non-fat, caramel macchiato.” I think we’ve all said or thought what we’ve needed to say about these people. Let’s just hope that if there is an afterlife, judgment of them will be swift and painful. My normal routine is to grab my order, quickly contemplate whether I should just cut out the middleman and pour it directly into the toilet, and find a not-noisy spot to bang out some work. That’s damn-near impossible, because with the cacophony, I feel like young Clark Kent in Man of Steel when his ability to hear everyone’s voices drives him to lock himself in the janitor’s closet. On this occasion, I decided to survey the landscape… cuz my client sure as heck wasn’t getting their copy written then and there. I think the following is a fairly accurate representation of your average Starbucks at 10:30 AM on any given weekday.

Old people. Always old people. Makes sense, I know. There are a lot of retired people out there, and they have tons of time on their hands to spend in a coffee shop. It’s a great reward for a job well done at Seniorobics. But there is a limitless parade of them. It’s as if Starbucks has replaced the 4:30 early-bird buffet as the place to see and be seen… and heard. The topics of conversation are, without fail, old people television shows (NCIS or some equivalent), politics, health issues, social security, more health issues, and relatives they might visit. I know this because they talk so loud. I think that I might secretly hate them because they have hours to fritter away while I scramble trying to meet deadlines. I need to enlist one of my offspring to do the right thing and end it before 70 rolls around for me.

Job performance reviews. This is surprising to me, but I see a lot of people from local businesses conducting these at SB…to which I groan. Come on: the performance review is the squirmiest, most uncomfortable meeting imaginable, save for getting dumped. Maybe they figure that ding it in a busy place somehow mitigates the formality of it all. Fuck anyone and everyone who has ever asked a person to rate themselves in any aspect of any job, ever. Sitting in such close proximity to the nervous laughter, the weird energy of it all, makes me wish I was anywhere but there.

Frustrated screenwriter. Not hard to spot. Unshaven, slightly disheveled, on their 4th cup of coffee, glancing up from their laptop every two minutes, staring intently into the distance, searching for some way to complete the scene of their completely guy-meets-girl opus that he has not a chance in hell of ever seeing filmed, much less looked at by a studio executive. What he lacks in writing talent, he makes up for in distracting body language and artsy angst.

Weird guy sitting in the corner. He seems to be waiting for a friend that will never come… or may not exist at all. Weird guy always has an odd look on his face, and I often wonder what he’s thinking. The best I can come up with is that he’s trying to figure out If there are too many people sitting around for him to let out a not-insubstantial fart. It’s been my experience that his body decides for him.

Mother who’s brought too many kids. This is usually a harried-looking woman who, for some earthly reason, decides to bring three small children to a place with nothing to do, eat or drink for you kids. Boredom and chaos ensue for the little ones. Other than that, great plan! There are plenty play cafés around… but apparently mom’s desire for a non-fat Frappuccino with extra whipped cream and chocolate sauce is strong.

Jerky blogger. This asshole. Traipses in, does a half hour of work, pats himself on the back and spends the rest of the time watching ’80s videos on YouTube. Occasionally glares at the people around him, as if their very existence is a nuisance. He probably thinks snarking on them would make a clever blog post.