I'm prettier than you are.
Sunday, 26 May 2002
Coffee Clash

Why is it that whenever I get a cup of take-out coffee (iced, please) from a new place, I feel incredibly guilty if I pass by another place I used to frequent?

Here in the little village of Manhattan, there are a few places to get coffee, and in my attempt to avoid Starbucks as much as possible -- not only in order to bring its operation to a crashing halt but to support the "mom and pop" spots where the service and coffee are generally better (note that I said "generally"; there are, of course, exceptions) -- I've taken to trying a new place every chance I get. I want to give every place a fair shot. The "problem" is that now when I pass by my "old" place right around the corner from my apartment, carrying a cup from one of the other places, I think that the counter-people at the old place are actually noticing.

I don't think they're mad; I think they're sad. Our coffee must not be that good, I know they're thinking, bowing their heads and staring down at their hands so I can't see them crying as they quietly twist a napkin between their nervous fingers.

I've taken to hurrying by the old place with my own head down, not daring to peek in lest I see the sad faces of the people who work there. I'm a traitor, I think.

Sure, they're still selling coffee to throngs of other people ... and sure, the place is busy whenever I pass by (I can see from the corner of my eye) ... but I just know they've noticed that I've passed by more than just a few times with coffee from a different place and that it hurts their feelings. And I know that if they go out of business (as I've heard it rumored), the blame will be on me.

But the problem isn't just my feelings of guilt and the sadness that I think the counter-people feel. The problem is that I think I'm going to get a reputation in the take-out coffee business as being something of a runaround. Oh, this must be the girl they were talking about, the new counter-person will think when I enter a new establishment. She can't commit. She always thinks she's going to find something better.

And I, of course, in response to their silent assessment, will put a tip in their tip jar just to show that I'm not as bad as it's been rumored. I may earn a reputation as town coffee slattern, but I still have a heart o' gold.

fresh-baked at 12:26 PM
Comments

That's what happens when you live in a place where you walk everywhere. People see you. You see things. Out in the west, with our I'll-drive-my-car-across-the-parking-lot-for-a-new-space mentality, we zip past the places where we used to stop so quickly that they don't have time to notice us. And we miss the details, including the many other options that don't have a flashing neon sign bigger than the chain outlet.

For more than a year, every time I drive to a client site, I drive past a business called "Take It & Bake It." From straining as I go past, I've learned that it is a sort of restaurant -- they fix up pans of things like lasagna and stuffed shells that you take home to make it look like you really cooked dinner. But have I actually stopped? Nope. There isn't any convenient roadside parking. If they had a lot, I would have stopped.

Besides, I know your secret... you are really on the prowl for Sex And The City location scouting!

Offered by: Desert Mermaid on May 26, 2002 05:03 PM