Playing off one another a few days ago were an interesting double occurrence. Intercourse? Occurrence.
It began with one of the more interesting coffee shop visits I've ever had.
I walk in there for the first time. The art is nice, looks like a local artist, and on sale. Good thing it's there.
Seeing the previous customer being being told to grab her own tea bag, and her resultant looking for it and grabbing it among the standard restaurant 2-tier tea box stacker, is weird somehow.
Awkwardness hits me. Can't place it. Can't define it.
Maybe it was overhearing:
"There's no medium, ok? There's four sizes." This, that, that, and the other thing. "It's a common misconception, I know it's hard to wrap your brain around, but .... " It continues a bit.
The path is clear. It's my turn. There are two women behind the counter. One is the owner, the other is the trainee. I'd describe their physical appearances but... well, hell, I'll describe their physical appearances.
Owner--female, middle-aged, British or European accent, unadorned, spotty black sweater, older-hippie-woman-behind-the-neck ponytail, black hair, grey streaks, plain.
Employee--female, young, bright-eyed, wrinkle-less, a little makeup, festively plump, black hair tied back in a french braid of some sort, little cleavage, blue shirt with lacy black thing underneath, getting all kinds of red in the face.
I walk up and order a tall americano.
"Now what do we always ask when a customer orders a tall americano?"
(Lt. Tuvok voice:) Increased redness, captain. "Um."
She genuinely wants to know, but she's being put on the spot, treated like a child, and I'm all cute and badass and everything, and she's probably getting all hot under the collar, yep, *stretch* aaaaand Sunday, too, yeah, who's got 2 thumbs and likes them festively plump? and she's trying to keep her new job, and probably can't think straight. The pressure, in short, is on. Like at an important quiz.
She looks even younger now--maybe not even 20. Fresh. Easily embarrassed. New to the working world. (certainly new to this boss)
"How many shots do you want?" It's as if a parent is teaching their toddler rudimentary English. Also, it's as if a business owner wants her employees to behave in such a way as to reduce all chances of customer and business unsatisfaction.
The boss isn't overly mean. The employee isn't overly mature. All in all--really awkward.
The whole way through.
I don't stay long.
"Sorry it's so ... awkward, right now," the owner says to my back, "we're training the employees and all."
Indeed.
Man, I gotta cut this off. It's 10:32, peeps, and I'm still at school. Part will follow. You'll like that part better. More feel-good type stuff.
It began with one of the more interesting coffee shop visits I've ever had.
I walk in there for the first time. The art is nice, looks like a local artist, and on sale. Good thing it's there.
Seeing the previous customer being being told to grab her own tea bag, and her resultant looking for it and grabbing it among the standard restaurant 2-tier tea box stacker, is weird somehow.
Awkwardness hits me. Can't place it. Can't define it.
Maybe it was overhearing:
"There's no medium, ok? There's four sizes." This, that, that, and the other thing. "It's a common misconception, I know it's hard to wrap your brain around, but .... " It continues a bit.
The path is clear. It's my turn. There are two women behind the counter. One is the owner, the other is the trainee. I'd describe their physical appearances but... well, hell, I'll describe their physical appearances.
Owner--female, middle-aged, British or European accent, unadorned, spotty black sweater, older-hippie-woman-behind-the-neck ponytail, black hair, grey streaks, plain.
Employee--female, young, bright-eyed, wrinkle-less, a little makeup, festively plump, black hair tied back in a french braid of some sort, little cleavage, blue shirt with lacy black thing underneath, getting all kinds of red in the face.
I walk up and order a tall americano.
"Now what do we always ask when a customer orders a tall americano?"
(Lt. Tuvok voice:) Increased redness, captain. "Um."
She genuinely wants to know, but she's being put on the spot, treated like a child, and I'm all cute and badass and everything, and she's probably getting all hot under the collar, yep, *stretch* aaaaand Sunday, too, yeah, who's got 2 thumbs and likes them festively plump? and she's trying to keep her new job, and probably can't think straight. The pressure, in short, is on. Like at an important quiz.
She looks even younger now--maybe not even 20. Fresh. Easily embarrassed. New to the working world. (certainly new to this boss)
"How many shots do you want?" It's as if a parent is teaching their toddler rudimentary English. Also, it's as if a business owner wants her employees to behave in such a way as to reduce all chances of customer and business unsatisfaction.
The boss isn't overly mean. The employee isn't overly mature. All in all--really awkward.
The whole way through.
I don't stay long.
"Sorry it's so ... awkward, right now," the owner says to my back, "we're training the employees and all."
Indeed.
Man, I gotta cut this off. It's 10:32, peeps, and I'm still at school. Part will follow. You'll like that part better. More feel-good type stuff.
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