ATux United States, the expression “Latte factor” refers to all seemingly trivial expenses that can have a disastrous effect on a budget. Online simulators allow you to calculate how much you can save per year by forgoing your latte daily. In recent years, a bubble tea factor is atomizing the pocket money of pre-teens in urban centers, who can learn from the age of 11 to ruin themselves with sugary drinks at 5 euros without having to impose the bitter taste of a coffee at Starbucks.
Young “bubble-teaeurs” generally have their parents’ consent to order these desserts disguised as drinks: in the age of drones and social networks, what parent would be afraid of tea?
The drink, of Taiwanese origin, has spread in France for about ten years, but the Covid-19 has consecrated it among preteens. More adult than a grenadine, less acrid than an espresso, with its lid to pass a straw, it is an ideal take-away drink, symbol of emancipated adolescence. The queues of their points of sale have become the last territory of socialization in times of pandemic. Especially since with all the possible combinations (oolong or green tea, hot or cold, cow’s or vegetable milk, watermelon or peach flavor, tapioca pearls or bursting balls), we stay a long time to discuss in the queue in front of the counter.
Young “bubble-teaeurs” generally have the consent of their parents to order these desserts disguised as drinks: in the age of drones and social networks, what father or mother would be afraid of tea? Going for a bubble tea is much easier to negotiate than a trip to the skate park, nor does it arouse the same disapproval as a descent at O’Tacos. And then, all that is never very far since, like the dealers and the O’Tacos, the sellers of bubble teas are installed near the schools.
How do we recognize them?
They, or more often they, earn 2 euros of pocket money per week. Or per month. But, by supplementing with the currency of the races, they manage to offer themselves bubble teas. They spend more time preparing their order than consuming it. While the multiple-choice menu can be paralyzing the first time around, they refrain from asking questions, which might betray that they are no big deal. Insolent with their teachers or their parents, they tremble in front of the bubble tea seller who announces that she no longer accepts orders paid for with “More than ten pieces” to avoid piggy bank funds. They stop defending the planet when it comes time to suck the marbles with the plastic straw (most bubble tea bars are not cardboard). They are reluctant to switch to moshis, these gluten-free Japanese cakes made from sticky rice.
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