Grande Ideas

The whole purpose of places like Starbucks is for people with no decision-making ability whatsoever to make six decisions just to buy one cup of coffee. Short, tall, light, dark, caf, decaf, low-fat, non-fat, etc. So people who don't know what the hell they're doing or who on earth they are can, for only $2.95, get not just a cup of coffee but an absolutely defining sense of self: Tall. Decaf. Cappuccino. - Joe Fox, You've Got Mail
You've Got Mail, the 1998 classic rom-com starring Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan is, perhaps, my favorite movie. One of my dear friends likes to give me grief claiming I say this about nearly every movie, and she has a point. I love movies. A lot. But, You've Got Mail holds a special place in my heart and, if it's not my favorite, it definitely makes my top three of all time.

The quote above is from an email Tom's character, Joe, sends to Kathleen, brilliantly portrayed by Meg Ryan. As a person who struggles to make decisions on the regular, this quote resonates with me and makes me giggle at myself because it is so full of truth delivered in the best way possible: humor. It's so spot-on: our ability to makes decisions and better yet, make wise decisions, has the power to make us feel good about ourselves. However, I believe there is yet another phenomenon of Starbucks ordering that has seeped into our consumer culture and shaped the type of buyers and decision makers we've become. It goes by the name, Grande.
The Grande. We feel superior when we order it at Starbucks because it says, "I'm not a glutton. I'm not ordering the Venti," while simultaneously letting people know you're not so concerned with calories or deprivation that you'll limit yourself to the tall. It's the Grande, the size that says "I know how to have fun and splurge, but I also know my limits."

It's not only at Starbucks that we find this zen balance between not enough and too much. When I'm buying a pair of shoes, I don't go to Walmart, but I don't go to Jimmy Choo either. When I need a new toaster or ironing board, I buy the mid-priced model because it's probably superior to the cheapest but I'm being a good steward by not purchasing the most expensive one available. I buy the show tickets that aren't nosebleed, but I don't blow my wad on front row seats. I choose the mid-priced car wash, and when I go to McDonald's, would I like to super-size that? No thanks, I'll just take a medium.

No retailer has better capitalized on our Grande mentality than Target. Ladies, am I right? Target is the epitome of Grande Consumerism. It's definitely more expensive than Walmart, but it's not nearly as pretentious as Whole Foods or Nordstrom. I don't feel guilty when I leave with my purchase from Target, but I also don't mind bragging that I got my cute shoes on clearance there either.

We are a society of Grande decision makers. We don't splurge on the biggest, tallest, most expensive, but we feel we need not settle for the smallest, shortest, cheapest option available. Grande makes me feel good about being me. Grande is the sweet spot between responsibility and carelessness. Grande allows me to be cautious and frugal without being cheap and greedy.
No doubt when I make my grande purchase, a small part of me believes I'm missing out on the glamour of the Venti. It's more, it's better, it's bigger, but, I tell myself, at least I didn't settle for the Tall. I can't help but wonder, though, what if I'm really missing out by not getting the tall? Certainly, my wallet is missing out, but what if I've cheapened my experiences by assuming that the cheapest option would not be the best experience?

Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy? Listen diligently to me, and eat what is good, and delight yourselves in rich food. Isaiah 55:2

Last year I wrote a series about a challenge I did to only shop at Walmart. While I eventually concluded that I did save money, my inner snob also concluded I preferred my latte in hand, cheese counter sampling experience at my local Fry's. After all, I surmised, it's not like I had to be at Whole Foods or Sprouts, I just preferred Fry's. I justified my Grande shopping experience. But, what if in my justification of avoiding the cheapest option, I was really robbing myself of a richer experience?

I have a sneaking suspicion that my grande mentality has robbed me of some pretty grand experiences. After all, sometimes the best things come in the humblest of forms. My faith reminds me of this daily. What would happen, I wonder if I began to view choosing the smallest, least or most frugal option not as settling, but as an act of self-control, humble obedience, and stewardship? This type of intentional moderation and behavior modification has the potential to not only strengthened me in the areas of spiritual disciplines, but, I suspect, result in the greatest experience of blessing and joy.

There are definitely areas of our life in which we should not settle, such as integrity, wholehearted devotion to God, and keeping commitments to ourselves and others. But there are other areas where we've convinced ourselves, with the help of pop culture and a wide array of experts, we're settling, when really we're justifying our consumer, greedy, and prideful inclinations.

So, what to do? For me, this looks like choosing the humblest option whenever possible. Perhaps it's getting the tall drink at Starbucks or choosing the smallest portion of dinner before I serve my family. Maybe it's going to Walmart (without judgment) instead of Sprouts or getting breakfast at McDonald's with my husband instead of the fancy farm to table restaurant. Here's the kicker though: if I do these things without humbling my heart and receiving my portion and provision with gratitude, I've accomplished nothing. The world promises contentment when we spend and buy more, upgrade to a better version and look out for ourselves by not settling for less. Jesus taught just the opposite. Jesus taught us that when we give more, consume less, and look out for others we'll never be settling again.

Not that I was ever in need, for I have learned how to be content with whatever I have. Philippians 4:11