Starbucks & losing brand affinity When you feel left behind

A friend of mine posted an Instagram story about a Starbucks that opened near her yesterday. Here’s what makes that remarkable: It’s one of the “new Starbucks”—where you can’t order at the counter and you can’t sit down—and she was speculating as to why.

I knew why because months ago I had read about these new stores in a Fast Company article in which Clint Rainey paints a vivid picture and aptly asks: What Happened to Starbucks? In the piece he tells the story of a couple who came into a store to order in person and were told they couldn’t. (It’s a brilliant article and Rainey touches on everything from the data the app gathers, to politics, to employee satisfaction and organizing, to profitability, leadership, and shareholders and I highly suggest you read it—but I want to zoom out and talk about the brand as it relates to the customer experience for a moment.)

Starbucks’ mission statement is: "To inspire and nurture the human spirit — one person, one cup and one neighborhood at a time.” Rainey talks about Starbucks rise as a “third place”; a place between work and home.

And in my mind, I romanticize Starbucks as a third place.

In college, when I had a big paper due, instead of meeting friends at the library, we’d meet at the local Starbucks. Maybe we’d pick the one with the comfy chairs, or the fireplace, or where the music wasn’t quite so loud but it was more energizing than the silent library.

When my older daughter had colic as an infant, the nearest Starbucks was just close enough she could fall asleep in her carseat on the way over and I could then get in 2 hours of writing and editing at a high top, while she caught her first nap of the day in her stroller next to me.

Before Covid, I’d regularly see people meet up there and I’d know who to expect based on the time of day. You’d see the moms right after daycare drop off. You’d see the retired men at the large table in the back reading their newspapers. Men and women with their laptops set up for the day, studying or working, would angle for the best table during the morning commute when others were filing into their offices. When school got out the high schoolers rushed in, and took over, eight to every table for four, to get the seasonal frappuccino.

It was a place to meet for a drink that didn’t involve alcohol.

There were community bulletin boards with upcoming shows and 5Ks.

(I’m idealizing it, surely, because the prices are astronomical, the lingo is elitist, and the drip coffee isn’t fundamentally delicious when you drink it black.)

But for me. It was a third place.

And I get that it closed during Covid.

And I get that if I order through the app, not only will I get my coffee faster and without breathing in someone else’s air—but Starbucks learns what locations I’m closest to at what time of day; when I order a hot drink and when I order a cold one; when I add cups of milk and cake pops because I have kids in tow; when I’m closer to my mom’s house and order her a cappuccino with soy milk; when I cancel my latte because they’re out of almond milk; when I’m traveling and I always get oatmeal for breakfast; or that I always add a bottle of water before a flight. Sure they have all that in my loyalty card; but as Rainey points out the app can encourage me, too. It can tell me I’ll get 250 more stars if I add a bottle of water. It can direct me to another store a mile in a different direction by telling me the closest one is out of cold brew. It can not only collect my data, but modify my user behavior.

Now I’m sure that Starbucks has done its research and is leaning to into time, convenience, post-Covid health etc—but they left us behind.

My friend is wondering aloud on Instagram if it’s a move the brand made because of homeless people in stores. Most people I know didn’t read Rainey’s article and have no idea this is coming. Imagine if you were in a new city, ordered through the app, pulled up with your laptop for a networking meeting or a day of work and couldn’t sit in the store.

You’d be pissed. You might even decide next time you’re choosing a different chain.

My brand affinity and willingness to pay $7 is tied to years of “third place” memories. Starbucks is still expecting to leverage the nostalgia that made us fans, but they’re not making us a part of their new identity and our changing experience.

That’s the part no one tells you about getting your customer to fully buy into your brand: If you move on without bringing them along; the more diehard they were, the less likely they are to follow.

I make a damn good cup of coffee at home, and I always have a seat.