Howard Schultz, the former CEO (and ostensible founder) of Starbucks, famously described the coffee chain as a "third place." In his vision, Starbucks was to be a place of communal gathering beyond the home and the workplace, a place to cultivate a sense of warmth, connection, and belonging. For much of its history, Starbucks designed stores aligned to this philosophy.
Large tables. Overstuffed chairs. Handwritten names on paper cups. Even the self-serve counter for milk, cream, and sugar promoted a sense of connection and interaction. Starbucks was a place of conversation and gathering. A place to conduct business or to catch up with friends. A place to read a novel or relax with your co-workers. Starbucks was able to sell its beverages at a premium price point in part because of the inviting amenities of its stores. The brand became an "everyday luxury" not just because of the coffee, but because of the subjective, and even sentimental, experience of lingering within a cafe.
But then in 2009, Starbucks launched its mobile app, beginning a journey away from the third place philosophy. 5 years later, Starbucks implemented order-ahead technology, allowing customers to bypass the line, skip the small talk, and obtain their extravagantly customized beverage from a to-go counter.
As mobile orders became increasingly common, cafes became a place not of conversation but of commerce. Starbucks decreased space for tables and seating, preferring open concepts to comfortable furnishings. Floorplans began to emphasize an efficient online ordering experience over lengthy lingering. Up until recently, the app-based strategy paid off handsomely. Some estimate that the Starbucks app accounts for over 30% of the cafe's orders. Customers pre-load cash into the app, effectively giving Starbucks an interest-free loan. Today, Starbucks boasts over two billion dollars of unused cash from customer app accounts, making the coffee chain a larger banker than most mid-sized American banks.
And then inflation hit. Even the most loyal Starbucks customer began to question the value of an $8 latte. As coffee drinkers balked at the price points, they also grew increasingly agitated at the in-store experience: the lack of seating. Barristas overworked from excessively customized orders. The confusion over how, when, and where to obtain one's beverage.
Same-store sales began to shrink. The stock price declined. Former CEO Howard Shultz lambasted the technological nature of Starbucks' business as an "achilles heel." Today, Starbucks is undertaking a substantial rebuild, guided by the former CEO of Chipotle, as it seeks to create a hybrid of third space community and digital age efficiency. Promising "more personal" cafes, Starbucks will look to rebuild their brand in a way that accommodates both the hurried app user and the relaxed table dweller.
The more I read about the Starbucks rebuild, the more I recognize that the challenges confronting Starbucks are the very same dilemmas confronting today's church.
How and when does an institution accommodate a faster-moving, technology-driven culture? How and when does an institution push back on acceleration and digitization?
How does an institution remain rooted in its foundations and its convictions, even when those convictions are unconventional? How does an institution revisit its foundations and reexamine its convictions?
How does a leader balance financial stewardship of an organization with the commitment towards community and human connection?
The digital transformation of Starbucks’ business is a necessity, as are the church's experiments with digital ministry.
For Starbucks, the digital transformation was about reaching an increasingly mobile, time-strapped coffee drinker. For the church, digital ministry is about equipping people for lives of faithful services, even beyond the walls of the sanctuary. Even though digital experimentation is crucial, both organizations must maintain their distinct characteristics, like nurturing meaningful connections among their communities. Despite the necessity of digital innovation, both institutions must learn to thoughtfully preserve what made them distinctive: the experience of meaningful connection with those gathered around the table.
I never would have thought that today's church shares so much in common with the world's 120th-largest for-profit corporation. But next time I step into a coffee shop to order a cold brew and an iced chai, I won't just be observing the making of the beverage. I'll be looking at how an institution balances change and continuity, velocity and values. As there’s no easy solution to this balancing act, we in the church just might observe something that we can learn from. Starbucks may not get any of it right. Not all of their learnings can or should be imported into the church. But they'll be engaged in a similar thought process to that of the ecclesiastical world. And that’s worth paying attention to.
In the church, we’re called to convene a different kind of table and share a different kind of cup. Still, there's something that we might be able to learn when we reach the bottom of our next cup of coffee.
