Alone in the Third Place
I hate drive-thrus. For one, I don’t like eating in my car. It’s messy. If I’m driving, it feels unsafe. It also distracts from the pleasure of eating—though judging by the quality of the drive-thru fare, maybe that’s the point.
And, I also miss the human interaction. I like looking people in the eye, exchanging a smile and perhaps a witticism, even if I’m the only one laughing. I admit I’m weird, and I’m a weirdo who likes an audience. While my kids love the drive-thru, I actively avoid them.
Because of my hatred of drive-thrus, I’ve been fascinated by the evolution of Starbucks. As you know, many Starbucks have added drive-thrus. The pandemic seems to have accelerated this trend. Now, I often see a line of a half a dozen cars at the Starbucks drive-thru. Meanwhile, if I’m in a hurry, I can park, run into a Starbucks, place and receive my order, and be back in my car before the car I would have been behind in the drive-thru line has completed their purchase. Score one for the speedy yet curmudgeonly counter goer.
The drive thru explosion at Starbucks has affected what’s happening inside the store. Starbucks used to pride itself on being the Third Place—not home, not work, just an inclusive place where people can hang out and connect. Yet, the Third Place is now mostly empty other than the employees.
Data bears this out: 60% of Starbucks orders are now drive-thru, 30% are mobile rapid pick-up, and 10% are counter orders. We’re short-term visitors to the Third Place if we even enter at all. Meanwhile, Starbucks has taken to reimagining the third place as “never (having) been defined solely by a physical space, it’s also the feeling of warmth, connection, a sense of belonging Starbucks.” I’m not the expert on drive-thrus, but it seems like the point is to not be connected to the place at all.
The broader issue is what the loss of the Third Place demonstrates about social connection. Like the Elks Lodge, the corner pub, and most religious institutions, we’re seeing another social venue disappear without recognizing what we might be losing. We’ve never been more connected, yet we’ve never been further apart. Meanwhile, we stay in our cars, listen to podcasts, and play on our phones as our seat cushions become more crusted with almond milk and açai berries.
I do have a solution: each pair of cars should have to link up. One driver parks and joins the other driver as they go through the drive-thru line. They have a conversation, starting with what they like to order from Starbucks. Maybe they make friends; at worst, the drive-thru line is shorter. I’ll be inside if anyone wants to chat.
