Ode to the armchair (found in that sort-of well known coffee place)

I have decided to admit the unpopular.

I like Starbucks. Not just the coffee, but the vibe, the lifestyle… the whole marketing kit and caboodle. I am a marketers dream customer.

My coffee addiction aside, the reason why I decided to come here today comes down to the chairs. The big, comfy armchairs. Wide backed, plump cushions in pleasing dark hued tones of black and midnight blue, offset with groups of chaise, lightly patterned in alternating green and beige. These are without arms, but offer the same low to the ground, well padded construction of its brethren.

The matching ottoman, on which I currently support my feet, allowing me to use my legs as my computer desk and rather lazily type from a semi-reclined position often reserved for Sunday afternoons and not mid-day Monday, is a circular shape with pale wooden legs, adding yet more depth. The square chairs, rectangular couch and round ottomans are subtle elements of design complimenting the primary colors in the wall mural. Cleverly avoiding becoming gawdy, or too maudlin, the whole ensemble is set against larger walls of soothing, even ‘coffee’ colored, earthy brown, clay, and rich black accents you expect out of the most proper coffee.

These chairs: armchairs in crushed black velvet, in washable fiber woven together, create a sense of ease and give me a comforting embrace as it envelops my body. The chairs are security and relaxation and ooze a welcome that calls out, “take a moment. have a seat. step outside the hum of the world and watch it pass by for a time.” Indeed, no need to rush. Even when the muffin is done, the last sliver of a walnut fished out of the bottom of the bag, the coffee sipped clean from the cup leaving a few faint remnants as I tip the cup back a few times, higher, head back, going for the last drop, even now, with no more business in this establishment, I can sit in the wide, agreeable armchair.

Lounging as I am, I watch customers speed through, such as Pablo who, with his girl, downs his tall, vanilla latte (as indicated on the side of the trademark white cup) in the span of 10 minutes and hustles out of the armchair across from me. Others in dark suits, customary business white button down shirts, reminding me of the Mormons that used to knock on my door in California, sit knocked kneed, pigeon toed, too straight, with computers heating up their laps. These chairs are not built for business. They are built to repel business. Never would they pass OSHA recommendations.

“A chair that is well-designed and appropriately adjusted is an essential element of a safe and productive computer workstation. A good chair provides necessary support to the back, legs, buttocks, and arms, while reducing exposures to awkward postures, contact stress, and forceful exertions.”(OSHA)

I can claim with authority that I am experiencing no forceful exertion, my legs continue to be fully supported by the ottoman, the wonderful padding below my buttocks is molding to the necessary shape quite easily and I am doing my best to avoid any awkward positions that mimic work. As far as stress, well, I’ve had my coffee (after a day of self-imposed coffee abstinence – and you’ll note it only lasted a day), so the monster headache that was brewing has been averted and I know the world is thankful, although unaware of the danger from which I saved it.

In the science of ergonomics I can’t see how my armchair passes the test for proper popliteal height or buttock popliteal length.  The arm rests are too high and when my feet are on the ground, my knees are higher than the seat. But that does nothing to deter my comfortableness and I am determined to see only the good in this armchair.

For example, if ergonomics tries to find the proper fit between people and their needs at work then perhaps I should consider a career change to something more appropriate. It does not seem neighborly to force the furniture to fit my every need, perhaps instead I should consider the untapped potential of the seat. I could, with little additional education, strive to become an armchair quarterback, an armchair general, an armchair diplomat, an armchair blogger, an armchair psychologist, or an armchair president (I hear that job is opening shortly). In the end however, I am stymied in figuring out how to become an armchair photographer.

Guess it is time to stand up. At least these people will be happy when I do.