In Seattle, the only thing we love more than coffee is our coffee shops.
On a six-block walk I pass at least a half dozen, each with their own vibe: one focused on chai, another inside a yoga studio, a Starbucks that’s surprisingly busy for late afternoon downtown. I passed them all up to get to one shop in particular, where a barista named Jarvis would address me by name and make me a thoroughly decent latte with rose-flavored syrup — nothing out of the ordinary in Seattle. But Jarvis, unlike the other baristas keeping the city’s many shops humming, is a robot.
Hill7 is a luxury apartment building located between the courthouse, the convention center, and a bunch of surface streets that function as an extended I-5 on-ramp. It’s at the center of it all, and also nowhere in particular. To get there, I walk past vacant storefronts with graffitied signs advertising prime retail space, and also an Amazon Go store that looked deserted from the outside. Amazon would announce its imminent closure the next day.
Artly’s shop near Pike Place Market employs three robot arms.
The robot barista resides in a large stand in the Hill7 lobby, sharing space with a place that sells sushi by the pound. There’s a not-unpleasant soy sauce and seaweed smell in the air as I place my order on an iPad. Jarvis isn’t a full humanoid robot, nor is it a glorified vending machine. Jarvis is a robotic arm made by a Seattle-based company called Artly, and is positioned within reach of a customized La Marzocco espresso machine. It “talks” over a loudspeaker, directing customers to order on the tablet and complimenting their choice of beverage when they do.
For the most part, it does all the things human baristas do — grabbing a cup, moving the portafilter from the espresso machine to the grinder and back again, pouring latte art. It doesn’t have to go as far as pressing buttons or pulling levers to start grinding beans or brewing the espresso thanks to some behind-the-scenes automation, but as it makes my drink, it goes through a lot of motions I’m quite familiar with.
I was horrified to learn that the company wanted me to actually talk to the customers while I made their coffee
I got my first barista job during college, and during training I was horrified to learn that the company wanted me to actually talk to the customers while I made their coffee. Not only did I have to learn a new set of skills and memorize a bunch of drink recipes, I had to swallow my social anxiety and make small talk with people who didn’t really want to be talking to me? An actual nightmare. But I tried anyway, and at times I had to focus so hard on the social aspect that I completely screwed up the coffee bit. I still think about the new dad who came in and carefully specified decaf for his order — I got so caught up in making small talk that I gave him a beverage with three fully caffeinated shots of espresso.
Later I did a stint at an artisanal gelato shop where the owner took deep pride in running a serious coffee program and didn’t mandate small talk. I learned how to dial in espresso, how to make a pour-over (not nearly as simple as the name implies). I was also in the messiest part of my 20s, going through my first breakup and in a not-unrelated incident, showing up to work so hungover that the owner took me aside, visibly worried, and asked if I was okay. He thought I was having some kind of breakdown; I told him I just got too drunk the night before.
Fun fact: Jarvis “checks” if there are grounds in the portafilter by holding it up to the little mirror on the left side of the grinder and confirming with the camera fixed at the end of its arm.
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