Though I see them everywhere, I have only been to Dutch Bros. twice in my life – for myself. I ordered a plain coffee. Boo. I have been to DB more than twice for others in my orbit, so this post is from experience. Only absolute anthropology here.
Anyone living in the western half of the occupied territory that is the United States may have seen the long lines at this business, now expanded as far east as Tennessee. Why? Is it the friendly service, the corn syrup, and other sweet delights, or "the roast"?
What would Dutch Bros. be like in a parallel universe?
Scene: Employee coughing as he blows smoke at a customer's window, "What can I get for you? Sorry, I just upped my nicotine."
Customer: "I thought you guys were supposed to be nice."
Employee: "Well, I don't know if you know how this works, but: the words nice and minimum wage don't go in the same sentence."
Customer: "You're not gonna ask me how my days going?
Employee: "Why would I ask you about your day?…
The dialogue gets a bit crude for a spell, so FYI.
Employee: "I get paid in cane sugar, dawg. You ever tried to pay your rent with cane sugar? Well, my mom's my landlord, but she's a diabetic."
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Dutch Bros. has a remarkable history of family, community, and dedication to the business. Founded in 1992, by 2000, DB was across the Pacific Norwest and has stores in eleven states today.