SALT LAKE CITY, UT – In a devastating blow to the city’s meticulously crafted air of irony, beloved artisanal coffee shop “The Grind of Existence” abruptly shut its doors this week after a customer dared to order a basic cup of black coffee.
Baristas, clad in their usual uniform of deconstructed flannel and ironic trucker hats, were reportedly left speechless when a man in a suspiciously un-ripped pair of jeans approached the counter. “Just a regular coffee, please,” he said, shattering the delicate symphony of oat milk frothing and Chemex gurgling that usually filled the air.
“Regular?” stammered barista Xander, his meticulously-sculpted beard twitching in confusion. “Like… filtered? With, you know, just water and grounds?”
The customer, clearly oblivious to the existential crisis unfolding before him, simply nodded. The silence that followed was so thick, you could practically spread locally-sourced avocado toast on it.
“We, uh, don’t really do ‘regular’ here,” Xander finally managed, his voice barely a whisper. “We offer a curated selection of single-origin, ethically-sourced beans, each with their own unique… emotional journey.”
The customer, apparently unfazed by the prospect of his coffee having an emotional journey (presumably one filled with existential dread and a hint of third-wave pretentiousness), simply shrugged. “Black. Hot. Caffeinated. That’s all I need.”
This, apparently, was too much for The Grind of Existence. The baristas, overcome by the sheer banality of the request, promptly launched into a group existential meltdown. Questions filled the air like the aroma of overpriced nitro cold brew: “What is the meaning of coffee if it’s not a carefully curated experience?” “Is life just a series of filtered disappointments?” “Do we even need sleeves on our ironic mustaches anymore?”
Unable to reconcile the customer’s basic needs with their own carefully constructed sense of angst, the shop’s management made the difficult decision to shut down. A handwritten note taped to the door simply reads: “Closed for introspection. May reopen if we find a single-origin bean that reflects the crushing emptiness of existence.”
Local residents, forced to resort to the indignity of grabbing their caffeine fix from a corporate coffee chain, were surprisingly nonchalant. “Honestly, the oat milk lattes were starting to taste like artisanal tears anyway,” remarked one customer. “Besides, maybe this will free up some space for another artisanal pickle shop.”
Local Grindhouse Coffee Shop Folds After Existential Crisis Local Grindhouse Coffee Shop Folds After Existential Crisis
