What Your Coffee Order Says About You

 

     I am not a Starbucks barista, but I am a loyal customer. So loyal, in fact, that my local Starbucks feels more like a second home than a coffee chain. I know the rhythm of the morning rush, the scent of espresso drifting out the door before the sun is fully up, and the faces behind the counter who remember not just my order, but my name. I visit the same location so often that I could probably take a shift behind the register if it weren’t for the fact that I have no idea how to work the espresso machine.

    But it’s more than just frequency that connects me to this place. During one of the roughest chapters of my life, I practically lived there. When everything else felt uncertain, Starbucks became my constant. I would settle into the same corner seat, headphones in, laptop open, nursing a flat white for hours. It wasn’t just caffeine that kept me going, it was routine, familiarity, and the quiet kindness of people who noticed when I didn’t show up. That café became my refuge, my makeshift therapy office, my grounding place when nothing else was holding steady.

    Among those familiar faces was Alex, my long-time barista and, over time, my friend. When I first met him, he was still navigating college through the Starbucks College Achievement Plan. He always had a smile, a playlist recommendation, and a story ready while whipping up my flat white. Over the months, our interactions evolved from casual chats to real conversations about music, life, the grind of school, and what it means to serve people in a job that so many underestimate.

    When I learned Alex had left Starbucks, I was genuinely dismayed. I hadn’t been in that week, and I missed the chance to say goodbye. It felt strange—losing someone I saw more regularly than some of my actual friends. But a few weeks later, I ran into him. He told me about his last shift, about the regulars who came in just to see him one last time, and about how working at Starbucks taught him more than just how to make the perfect cold foam. It taught him patience, resilience, and how to read people with startling accuracy, sometimes just from the way they ordered their drinks.

    Inspired by our conversation, I started thinking about what our coffee orders say about us. We may laugh at the stereotypes, but let’s be honest: there’s always some truth behind the foam.

    Here is what your coffee order says about you:

    Iced Coffee (Black): You are efficient, no-nonsense, and likely chronically tired. You don’t have time for syrups or small talk, but you appreciate consistency.

    Pumpkin Spice Latte: You embrace trends unapologetically. You enjoy seasonal joy, and you probably own a cozy sweater that makes you feel like autumn itself.

    Cold Brew with Sweet Cream: You like your edge with a little softness. You’re cool under pressure but crave just enough sweetness to balance out the intensity.

    Matcha Latte (Hot or Iced): You’re likely into wellness or at least the idea of it. You want to feel calm and centered, and you probably meditate (or at least downloaded a meditation app once).

    Caramel Macchiato: You’re nostalgic. This was probably your first "grown-up" drink, and you haven’t looked back. You're sweet, friendly, and a little dramatic when stirred.

    Flat White: You’re classy, a little mysterious, and you like things done properly. You read the news on paper and have very specific opinions about milk texture.

    Frappuccino: You’re fun, and you don’t care who knows it. You like dessert disguised as coffee, and you’re here for a good time, not a long time.

    Hot Tea: You’re either sick, heartbroken, or wise beyond your years. No one ever really just orders hot tea unless they’re in one of those three moods.

    Strawberry Acai Lemonade Refresher: You're a teenage girl and you probably order this drink with no inclusion. Everyday is summer when you order a refresher. Sugar keeps you going!

    As for me? I switch it up depending on the season and my mood. But no matter what’s in the cup, the experience stays the same: a little warmth, a little ritual, and the comfort of being known.

    I may not be a Starbucks barista, but thanks to people like Alex and the countless other baristas who remember the names, orders, and stories of the people they serve, I’ve come to realize that loyalty is a two-way street. And sometimes, your local coffee shop says more about you than just your caffeine dependency. It becomes part of your life’s routine, your community, your story.

    And that, I think, is worth the $5.75.