All I wanted was an iced coffee.
Coffee and ice cubes in a plastic cup. No more. No less.
I walked up to the counter and gave my order to the barista — only to be startled by her reply.
So, you don’t want any Classic Syrup in it?
No, I most certainly did not. I stated as much to the barista — and I got my syrup-less iced coffee a few minutes later.
It looked fine. It tasted fine. And it was what I’d ordered. Crisis averted.
Still, I was bewildered.
How had something so simple become so complicated? And was I always going to need to exert this much effort just to get an iced coffee?
I am not alone in my bewilderment.
All over America, people wander into coffee shops looking for a basic cup of joe. And all too often, their quest gets waylaid.
Dark, caffeinated liquid no longer flows freely into cups at these establishments. Instead, it is mixed with milk, syrup, and whipped cream until it’s unrecognizable.
Such is the mandate — both from consumers and café management. Consumers hope to get a morning jolt without even a hint of coffee’s natural bitterness. Proprietors are looking to upcharge for the fillers and sweeteners that help bury such hints.
These are the rules of engagement for procuring a modern-day brew. These are the terms for taking the field.
And because of this, black coffee drinkers find themselves sidelined.
Baristas will often delay fulfillment of their orders, opting to prepare more customized concoctions first. Or worse, those baristas will mistakenly add milk, syrup, or sugar to the cups — simply by force of habit.
As a capitalist and a marketer, I understand where coffee shop proprietors are coming from. The restaurant industry has teetered on razor-thin profit margins for generations. Any opportunity to get more cash from consumers must be taken.
But I must confess, I’m perplexed by modern-day coffee consumers. This obsession with customizations and over-the-top flavors seems like a classic case of having it both ways.
People want the benefits of coffee without any tradeoffs. Loading it up might seem to them like a great way to get there.
It’s not.
Several years ago, I quit drinking alcohol.
Shortly thereafter, a new category of booze skyrocketed in popularity. It was a fizzy concoction known as Hard Seltzer.
I know nothing about how hard seltzer tastes. But I would imagine it’s the successor to Smirnoff Ice. That’s the flavored vodka drink that I used to get for girls when we ventured to the beach in college.
Hard Seltzer, Smirnoff Ice, and crude cocktails — such as Frozen Margaritas — offer the same promise. Those who consume them can get drunk without ever encountering alcohol’s signature burn.
These drinks are the boozy equivalents of modern coffee. All the benefits, but with none of the drawbacks.
Or so it seems.
It turns out there are drawbacks to these concoctions. Most are loaded with sugar and artificial flavorings. Many don’t sit well in digestive tracts. And all of them can lead to overindulgence.
Add it all up, and these drinks can cause plenty of issues to those who consume them.
Yes, alcohol’s repulsive natural flavor is an advantage. It’s a visceral check against the binge mentality.
It forces us to reckon with what we’re doing as we drink. Even as our memory blurs and our inhibitions float away, we retain a sense of what we’re doing. And our case for deniability evaporates.
We likely won’t hold ourselves accountable for our actions if everything we drink tastes like fruit punch. But if those drinks have an aftertaste resembling lighter fluid? Well, that unpleasant memory is primed to linger. And so might our sense of guilt over what we’ve wrought.
The stakes for coffee are decidedly lower than alcohol. We’re less likely to crash our car or heave on someone’s carpet after downing some wake-up juice.
And yet, loading it up still comes with a personal cost.
The excess sugar and cream fill us with empty calories to burn off. And it likely wipes out many of the coffee’s purported health benefits.
Compound this over time and our fitness might lag. Our tooth enamel might decay. And our digestive system might crash.
Our bodies are not primed to take in dessert for breakfast each day. But that’s essentially what we’ve turned modern-day coffee into.
If having it both ways seems too good to be true, it’s because it is.
I am an avid runner.
For me, there’s nothing like getting outside and feeling my shoes hit the pavement. The wind whizzes by my ears, the fresh air fills my lungs, and I feel alive.
I love running. But to be honest, it’s not always pleasant.
I’ve gotten a side stitch on the run before. I’ve felt my legs turn to jelly. I’ve gotten flush in the face and sweated profusely.
These experiences have been miserable. But they haven’t weakened my resolve to keep getting out there.
This point has baffled the non-runners I’ve encountered. Many of them have avoided the hobby because it can be unpleasant. And yet, I persevere in spite of that unpleasantness.
For I understand the broader picture. I recognize that I can’t have it both ways.
If I want to experience the benefits of running — the peak fitness, the graceful strides, the breezy race splits — I also must reckon with the misery that this sport carries with it.
So, there is no loading it up for me. I take my running the way I take my coffee — straight-up and uncompromised.
Fortunately, I’m not alone in this endeavor. The running community is full of people of a similar mentality to my own.
This is logical. After all, you can’t really thrive in an endurance sport without, well, enduring.
Still, I’d say the same is true of coffee, of alcohol, and of all the other things we systematically exploit.
If we understood them in their truest form, we’d gain some needed context. And if we stopped loading them up by default, we’d be better off.
Yes, this would lead to some visceral unpleasantness. And yes, this would require some behavior change on our end. It’s a big ask, and not one we’re likely to take on with enthusiasm.
Still, it’s a change we should make. For the status quo is doing us no favors.
It’s time to stop loading it up. And it’s time to face reality.
Let’s get to it.