This morning, I asked the girl at the coffeeshop what “Fair Trade” coffee means.
She had no idea.
So, I asked her what “Unfair Trade” coffee would be.
“Oh, that’s easy,” she said. “The coffee distributor makes the grower’s negotiator stay at the airport in a room next to the ice machine so they can’t get any sleep. Then, they give them the sucky chair in the conference room, the one with broken springs and not enough padding. Oh, and they offer them sodas and coffee, but the bathroom door’s locked when they need it.”
I smiled… and ordered tea.