Indian Coffee “Lovers” — A Clueless Generation

If you’re going to a café, buying a Hazelnut Latté and Instagramming photos of your brew to tell the world how you “need to stay caffeinated” to stay alive and to cope with your bullshit existential crises, then STOP! You don’t know what you’re doing, and no amount of coffee related hashtags are going to save you from the cancer, that is yourself, and the friends that not only pander to you, but partake in such bullshit with you.

Silent screams that cry “poor life choices”

This is probably the only time I’ll explicitly acknowledge that you exist, and would further grimace at that thought. You entitled hippie-scum of a generation — what do you even know about coffee? Your favourite kind of coffee is “strong”, your favourite type of coffee is ‘Starbucks’, and all the information you got about coffee was from a ScoopWhoop or BuzzFeed article. How the fuck are you even genuine?

You have effectively made ‘cappuccino’ the national past-time activity of the “urban poor”. In an ineffective pursuit of living the F.R.I.E.N.D.S life you’ve narrowed your intellect, as you have your environment — from home, to café, to work, to café, to bar, and then back home. Now you have first world problems to complain about, like how the latté-art on your cuppa this evening was poor, while you still hang out with the same incestuous lot that you’ve called friends for the last however-many years, who don’t add anything but drama and misery to your life. And you don’t hesitate to return the favour.

It’s no surprise that you find the #Aroma of your insipid run-of-the-mill brew so #Comforting — and you really need all the comforting that you can find, but now you’ve seen yourself becoming a #Coffeeholic, and you know what they say about addicts, they don’t have taste. They’re just always craving for their next fix.

Cafe Coffee Day likes to say “A lot can happen over coffee”, and you believed that.

You believed that sitting with your laptop in a busy café, shamelessly nursing a Latté Grandé for 3–4 hours, which significantly tastes like cardboard was steeped in it, and working on that “social media” job/design start-up that you have, has added some real value to your life, and that you’ve achieved something by the time you call for the bill. Or maybe you’ve caught up with another friend, who probably works in PR, and leads an equally shitty life as yours, and all you do is keep complaining about your respective bosses and failed dates. No wonder conversations with your kind are boring, they reek of desperation and have absolutely no nuances, just plateaus after plateaus.

You know, looking at your lot, Cafe Coffee Day forgot to add “of horseshit” between the “lot” and the “can”.

I wonder why many of you say, particularly with a tone of entitlement, that you’re not taken seriously in this world, when you don’t do that yourself. The least you can do is not be in denial about that, and stop drinking a coffee that is as fake as you are. It’s a good time to not-so-ironically answer the question “what would I do without my daily Cuppa Joe?”. So, take your frappé selfies, your “coffeehouse” career ambitions and your low self-esteem away, and smell the coffee — pun intended.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.