Annie Vainshtein
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In a world where we tend to our social media accounts religiously, online quizzes have become a socio-psychological phenomenon. In pursuit of the perennial need to receive judgments about our character faster than we can say “bae,” we often turn to sites like BuzzFeed or Upworthy and internalize their assessments of us, which are most often pretty arbitrary.
This is supposed to be an expert column, so you’re in luck. Citing work from psychological maverick Carl Jung, the founders of Pi Kappa Alpha at University of Virginia circa 1868 and various personal observations of suburban high school cafeteria dynamics, I will attempt to tell you exactly what kind of person you are based on which Starbucks drink you happen to be holding.
I understand there are a lot of people in the world, and so my projections might not seamlessly align. I’m merely sketching the basic picture; it’s up to you to fill in the lines.
All characters are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Some names and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals.
1. Chocolate Chip Frappuccino
The kind of eagerness that governs the nature of a Frappuccino drinker is one that is rarely found anywhere else, with the exception of most transatlantic tourist destinations. If you drink Frappuccinos, mind you, they can be chocolate chip, vanilla, java chip, caramel — they all apply — you most likely fall into the category of people who also buy counterfeit Jessica Simpson perfume off the sketchy street vendors in Times Square. More often than not, these very same people are the ones you see running once a year, on July 11, to get the free slushie. Most of the time, 7/11 has run out.
Frappuccinos (a close relative of the slushie) belong to the underbelly of society. The moderately overweight Oklahoman dads (those who grill, boast mediocre golf skills and always have slushie stains on their shirts) and the middle school student (scrawny, Axe-drenched with a penny board in hand). The dad works hand-in-hand with the middle schooler, who drinks the frappuccino to impress members of the opposite sex with the maturity and sexual prowess implied by the consumption of a beverage that isn’t hot chocolate.
2. Cappuccino
Compared to the linguistically embroidered names of most Starbucks drinks, cappuccino sounds fairly weak. However, this is not the case.
Let’s start with the basics. If you drink cappuccinos, you fall into one of three categories. First: These are the people who stand in coffee lines as a social exertion, mistakenly believing espresso is a syrup and at a pivotal moment in their lives heard someone order a cappuccino. Enchanted by the foreign-sounding phonetics of the word “cappuccino,” they order it for the rest of their lives. And every time they do, they think either of “The Lizzie McGuire Movie” or the Leaning Tower of Pisa — the two most important products of Italy, of course.
The second category includes those who like them only because the steamed microfoam overload takes them back to the days of the 2002 Super Bowl, when their dad let them try a little bit of the foam from his Miller High Life. Things with dad aren’t so good these days, but cappuccinos temporarily create the illusion of the long-gone nuclear family construct we all long for.
And the third? These are the pseudo-intellectuals who always imagined themselves in New York City and would love to be at a small coffee/bookshop/artistic hub but either don’t have the courage to go against the grain or don’t have the luxury of options. The thought of Goodwill repulses them. These people are hip-adjacent. Almost bohemian. Cool is just one flannel away.
3. Pike Place Roast
People who order Pike Place Roasts can be compared to Cuisinart’s Custom Classic Toaster Oven, which you can find at Bed, Bath & Beyond (four-year warranty). They’re sturdy, rustic and live up to other people’s expectations about 30 percent of the time. The Pike Place roast is overwhelmingly strong, known for its unique notes of Air Jordans, Obey™ and Rohypnol. Drinkers of Pike Place Roast only drink it black. They don’t need any more sweet in their lives; they get enough of it from Busch and Monster Rehab. They don’t drink coffee because they like it — they drink coffee because their role model Riff Raff does. But most importantly, they drink the Pike roast to come to Starbucks, and they come to Starbucks because their aunt Suzanne gave them a gift card and they don’t spend their own money on drinks with less than 5 percent alcohol. And also they get bored a lot. The paninis are low-key “sick,” too.