As everyone's father ever probably once said, "sometimes you just want a cup of coffee." Back in the day, this was an easy goal to achieve. Walk into your corner bodega or plop down at the diner counter and you would have coffee in your hand before you could loudly complain that no one should talk to you before you've had your coffee.

When your neighborhood becomes gentrified, there will be an explosion of coffee shops with hip names and urban rustic décor, and they'll be selling you everything but coffee. Sure, you can buy coffee, but what this place will be selling you is artisinal, whipped-cream topped lattés and espressos that come in a thimble. They'll also sell you the ambience. There will be a cooler-than-thou barista pouring the froth. There will be chairs hand-crafted from drift wood. There will be an open-mic night.

The ambience is ultimately window dressing. The pain-stakingly created mood, completed with the falsely aged wall art, only serves as a beacon for customers who will promptly open their computers, force in their ear-buds hoping to enjoy their latté in peace. The lively shit talking of the old men at the diner and the dudes in and outside the bodega will be replaced with the repetitive tap-tap-tap of keyboards and the whining complaints that the wi-fi password isn't working. 

"By the way, we don't serve coffee. Is an Americano OK?"