Coffee

It seemed straightforward enough. People do it every day, all the time. I’m a millennial; shouldn’t I be most at home in a coffee shop? Yet things rarely ever do go as I plan them.

I was there early, though not as much as I’d hoped because drying my hair took longer than it should have. I think my hair dryer of 10+ years has quite outlived it’s cost-per-use and needs to replaced. I think of this just about every other day when I am standing at the bathroom sink drying my hair. It shouldn’t take so long to get the job done. Have you seen my hair? I’ve seen BABIES with more hair.

I had perhaps an hour to write and look pensive before my morning commitments began, so into the coffee shop I walked, bag over my shoulder. I was further from home and rarely visited this particular place. While waiting in line to place my order (regular dark roast, please) I selected a pair of socks because I need socks and they were made with proper amounts of wool and cotton. It wasn’t until I was paying for them I realized the wool must be from Australia’s finest frolicking merino sheep because it cost nearly as much as the sheep. One doesn’t simply return coffee shop socks to the shelf when the hipster coffee shop barista is staring at you stroking them.

Here is the thing. This particular location seemed to be full of business professionals. There were lots of suits, lipstick, and clicking heels. Everyone appeared to be having an important breakfast meeting. Only a small percentage of patrons were students, moms-running-errands like me, or bearded men in plaids. A very small percentage, and mainly stuck in odd corners or along the window seating.

I chose a table next to a suited gentleman clicking away on his Mac with a Bluetooth device attached to his ear. When I sat down and sipped my coffee, I realized I needed cream. I returned with creamy coffee and began pulling out my planner, whereupon I remembered I needed napkins because I’d already dripped the coffee. After finding and placing napkins on my table and digging in my bag some more, it became clear I’d left my phone IN THE VAN. I stood up again, leaving my coffee and hoping no one would clear my table before I came back. It may have been my imagination, but as I left my table for the third time Bluetooth Suit did seem to be developing a nervous twitch.

At last, returning to the table with my security blanket {phone} and definitely cooler coffee, my bladder alerted me to its desperate need. I kept half my stuff there and ran to the bathroom, nearly knocking over a chair on my way. Once I returned and pulled out my Chromebook, I went to plug it in when I discovered…I had no outlet. The outlets were along the windows where the students and plaids were sitting. Did I dare risk getting up again to walk past my neighbor, who was now eyeing me sternly? I decided to stay until the last minute, when my battery was for real shutting down.

Five minutes later, I packed everything back up and shifted to the one available window seat next to a couple girls pouring over their study notes.

How anyone gets anything done in a coffee shop I have no idea at this point. However, this was my window of time and I was going to squeeze every drop out of it. I finished my cold coffee, sip by sip, writing out my thoughts, line by line, and then it was all-too quickly time to leave.

Goodbye, Bluetooth Suit. I know you’ll miss me.

Wait-I’m back I LEFT MY BOOK UGH.

Photo credit: Nafinia Putra and Jason Briscoe on Unsplash