Coffee as a Social Experiment

Early this morning I sat sipping a medium roast “Grande” which is Starbuck’s, small regular coffee. I had a small shot of half-n-half and a packet of sugar substitute. I was good to go; no frills, no picture of smiley faces or forest creatures constructed from floating cream… just a cup of Joe.

 

I am a great watcher of people and even at 7:30a.m. in the morning there was plenty to observe. I noticed immediately that coffee orders may well be indicative of what is so horribly wrong with  our entitled, pampered, soon to be someone else’s colony society.

 

Case #1

A large yet fashionable woman of maybe 40 years pulled up in a late model Dodge SUV. She totally owned her femininity and looked great in her orange linen top and white capris’. She ordered some sort of concoction which should have had vanilla as it’s’ center attraction. As the barista was creating the customer stopped him to ask “Shouldn’t I be able to taste the vanilla? Yesterday, I couldn’t taste it.” The barista fellow of probably mid-50’s simply restated her order followed by the word, yes. He continued creating. The customer stopped him again. She now wanted and extra shot of whatever makes and meets her vanilla standards. That was her vanilla standards and not her vanilla standards. Politely, the barista complied without comment. He was now finally finished. The customer now wanted to sip/ taste test the finished product prior to paying. She almost seemed excited with her task and alas she approved! She payed the man. With head held high she sauntered towards the door looking as if she had accomplished something important; not only for herself but for God-fearing free people everywhere. She exited having gotten exactly what she had paid for.

 

Case #2

Roughly fifteen minutes after the above case ended, in walked a beautiful young woman in her early twenties. She was wearing tiny orange patterned shorts and a black/gray stripped top and high heels which matched noting but, who am I to judge? It was clear that she knew that she was very attractive in spite of her sartorial shoe blunder. She then surveyed the room as if to seek out those who might disagree. Satisfied, she and her “date” (a young man of the same approximate age) that seemed to be cast as set dressing in that he was pudgy and nondescript; as if it was his job to make her light appear even brighter. As you might have imagined, she was even more high maintenance than the woman in Case #1.

The young woman placed her order of a blond roast (I believe an order for people who do not really like coffee). This is like ordering a cup of weak tea, but I digress. She interrupts to add a shot of this and as shot of that.

 

She then asked the price and complains that her order was cheaper at another location. The barista woman looked to be restraining herself from asking “Do you actually believe that I give a ----?” Just then there was another problem… “At your other location in Clay, N.Y. the shots of [this or that] were put in the cup before the coffee.” The barista apologizes just as she was taught in training. I believe that this is what defines the word complicit? The concoction was finished and this queen (as with the other) needs to taste test for approval prior to paying. As the barista shifts from her left foot to her right, her expression was now more pointed and possibly “just friggin’ eat me B----!”She smiles (both of them at the approval). The barista now asks the gentleman what he would like. He stammered “nothing.” He looked to be too embarrassed to add to the barista’s torment. Again the customer exited almost giddy with accomplishment. I spied them through the window. The guy got into a twelve year old Honda Accord with Glaucoma headlights and me lady got behind the wheel of a mid-series BMW. I am a little jealous in that I have as of yet found anyone to finance or tolerate my idiosyncratic behaviors. As well, I am not so fetching in hot shorts, any more anyway.

 

I could go on but, you get the picture? This is how a pampered, entitled culture starts their day… With a “you have to watch those people” attitude they order about a minimum wage “servant” to create their absurdly over-priced morning beverage  that in most cases is not even coffee. They feel superior and the most important thing to them as they start a new day is a properly prepared cup of la-dee-da “coffee.”

As an aside: During the hour or so that I sat watching these people, there sat a man on a bench directly facing the front door (this Starbucks location is on a corner with two entrances). That man who looked to weigh dripping wet 100 pounds was doing his best “I am Travon Martin” imitation in a gray hoody; his head bowed to convey or rather solicit pity.

The majority of people who parked on that side of the building walked behind him and around the corner to the other entrance to avoid being asked for money. Even those who passed him said “No.” As time wore on he looked sadder as he rolled cigarette after cigarette. The contrast of the man sitting in front of the Starbucks begging might have been unsettling if it wasn’t for the preoccupation with getting one’s $5.00 cup of fancy correct.

The saddest part of this whole experiment was that I placed a dollar in my left pocket to give to the guy. There was a group of people gathered inside but blocking the front door so, I exited from the side. Before I could decide which direction I was going in the man from the bench was in my face with “man I don’t have nothin’” I gave him the dollar and he looked disappointed. He had the same expression of the woman who could not taste the vanilla the day before. I walked a couple doors down and mailed a few letters and then made my way around the block…There he was again demanding more money from me. I told him NO! Unlike the baristas, I do realize that you get treated like you teach people to treat you.  

Peculiar and happy tales about money from another time.

1.


One afternoon as I crossed one of the busiest streets in town... As I walked along with all of zero dollars in my pocket I ponder the state of my financial affairs. As a poor but honest graduate student, I was well used to the first week of the month (after the bills were paid) being very tight. I found myself in this usually busy intersection which on a Saturday at 3 in the afternoon would normally be bustling with foot or vehicular traffic. I happened to look down and there I saw three fifty dollar bills tightly folded and laying in the very center of the intersection. I looked all around; I looked ahead of me and behind. I looked East, then West and there was not a single person on foot or in a vehicle as far as my eye could see. I picked up the money and looked around again. I slowly walked the block and a half to my apartment expecting that at any point someone would scream out for their lost rent money; their lost medical prescription co-pay.

Once home I placed the money on my dresser and stared at it as if I had stolen it. I felt bad, even though I needed the money. I could not help thinking that some one had lost money that might have bee very critical to their needs. I put the money in the top drawer. As I lay on my bed I pondered what could be done to return the money. I could put up a sign asking if anyone lost money? I quickly realized that this might well end up one of my most ridiculously bad choices of all time. I still felt bad for the person who lost the money. The money sat in that drawer for a couple months before it occurred to me that the universe had conspired to present it to me that day. Sometimes what we need is right in front of us but, we don't realize that it is for us. We don't realize that we are all worthy of grace.


2.

A similar story to the one above happened a couple years later. I again, found myself walking down the street with empty pockets. The skies were bright and sunny and I was in a swell mood. Suddenly, there was a whirlwind in front of me much like a cartoon tornado. I had to close my eye to prevent debris from getting to me. When I opened them the whirlwind had subsided and I automatically reached for a piece of paper that the wind had placed squarely on my left peck (chest). As I was about to fling the paper to the ground I stopped myself because it looked familiar. I held the paper in front of me now that the wind was gone only to notice that it was a crisp twenty dollar bill. This time I had no doubt that it was mean for me!



3.

Back then during those same grad years, I had walked over to a nearby convenience store and purchased a scratch off lottery ticket with the last dollar in my wallet. I figured that one buck could not lead me directly to prosperity or hell so, why not? I left the store and pessimistically removed the waxy coating over the numbers to reveal that I was indeed a winner. I had won $500.00 dollars! This discovery was made about halfway from my apartment which was just a couple blocks away. I made a very quick about face and returned to the convenience store to cash in the ticket. I noticed a couple surly sorts about the store that seemed to linger too long for my tastes. I therefore whispered to the woman clerk to not say anything out loud about my winnings but, rather to be very casual about the transfer of the money from her register to my greedy palm. She nodded agreement and I handed her the ticket. It was at this point to my shock she wailed out "HOLY SHIT YOU WON! YOU WON $500.00!" The ears of the too vagrants perked up and they moved forward as if to collect their winnings; all smiles. "WTF," I thought. How am I going to get home? I accepted the money from the woman and could feel the breath of one of those guys on the back of my neck. I quickly left the store. I started to sprint and fast; at a rate that might have actually kept me on the track team in school! I ran across the busy street not waiting or thinking about traffic. I continued to run and then looked behind me. The two guys were on my tail and gaining. I knew that I would need 2 keys to get into my building and there would just not be enough time to get to safety. Fortunately, a couple friends of mine, Bob and Aaron shared a house at the end of the block. Praise Jesus, they were sitting on their porch! As I ran up the steps and past them, I screamed "HELP" and ran into their house. They quickly followed closing the door behind them. Over dinner the next night the three of us laughed as if I hadn't actually been scared shitless.

My Personal Best and Worst list...

1.
THE WORST THING EVER SAID TO ME IN A BAR:


Long ago and far away, I worked for IBM. For three weeks I had been in Atlanta at a training school. One Friday night I decided to go out to a club. As I stood at the bar I noticed an attractive woman to my right. Bored and a little homesick, I introduced myself to the woman. She disapprovingly looked me up and down and said ”I already know enough people.”

2.
THE WORST THING EVER SAID TO ME BY A STUDENT:


One semester on the first day of classes I had a student (a young black woman) come to my office and ask me to sign a “Drop-Add” form. She wanted out of my class! I asked her why and she said “Well, I called my momma after class and we both agreed that there ain’t nothing’ I could learn from a black man.”

3.
THE "FUNNIEST" THING EVER SAID TO ME BY A STUDENT:

I had repeatedly warned a certain student about his missing assignments and attendance; now the best he could have hoped for was to get a D in my course. While the class worked on a bit of free-writing I glanced at a sale circular (I was in the market for a new TV.) while waiting for their questions. The same student noticed me reading the circular and held behind after class. He actually offered to buy me a 19 inch TV if I raised his grade to a B. I thought he was joking as he oft did and decided to play along. I told him that the 19 inch would not do and at least a 32 inch was necessary. His response, "What, you got to be kidding? I could have you killed for less money!"

4.
ONE OF THE BEST THINGS EVER SAID TO ME BY A STUPID PERSON:


“Why don’t you speak in ebonics like the rest of your people?

5. THE WORST THING THAT I EVER SAID TO ANOTHER PERSON:

At 23 I stood waiting for a friend in a hotel bar. A woman at least 40 years my senior, went from winking at me to squeezing the back of my hand as it rested on the bar and said “Do you want to come home with me?” I responded “Why, is there someone younger and more attractive there?”

6. THE BEST INADVERTANT ADVICE EVER GIVEN TO ME:

I sat watching a play with a theatre friend. At one point I noticed that many of the people in the audience seemed to be crying. I asked my friend “What’s the matter with those people?” His response was “They’re weepy, Les. It is what happens to people with emotions.”

7. MY WORST HORROR MOVIE EXPERIENCE:

I took a date to the original Friday 13th movie. My date gripped my arm so tightly that it bleed and to this date I still have four ever-so-slight crescent fingernail scars on my forearm.

8. THE WORST JOB THAT I EVER HAD:

Undoubtedly, KFC! As the newest employee, it was my job to drain and clean the fryers. Unspeakable fried things (some of the once living) were found by me in the bottom of those vats. In addition, I also contracted a (grease related) raging case of acne that took more than a year to clear up.

9. THE SECOND WORST JOB THAT I EVER HAD:

One summer I worked in a factory that made the fillings for donuts. (No sophomoric jokes, please) In great part it was my job to stand with a 100 (one hundred) pound bag of sugar on my shoulder and slowly release the sugar into the bubbling/boiling vat or incur a string of made up curse words for the “cook”, a grizzled fellow who I only saw smile once; when I fell down walking with one of the sugar sacks.



The other half of my job was to work below the vats. I had to quickly grab the plastic packages that were filled with the boiling sweet filling from the machine extruding them. If you worked fast enough (and trust me you did!) you did not notice as much that you were handling packets that were a few hundred degrees without gloves. I protested and was told that the summer “college-boy” employees did not need gloves. Come to think of it, this job might have been worse than KFC.

10.
THE BEST THING EVER SAID TO ME BY A CRACKHEAD:

As I sat on a bus minding my own business I stared out of the window. I was wearing a cashmere blazer and wool driving cap. A crackhead standing over me asked “Who the fuck are you supposed to be? You on your way to the fucking Hamptons or somethin’?”

11.
BEST ADVICE EVER GIVEN TO ME:

"Never complain unless you have the will and a plan to change things."


12.
SECOND BEST ADVICE EVER GIVEN TO ME:

"You can have some of what you want from the world or you can have nothing. The street corners are crowded with people with nothing."

LES-ISMS

What are Les-isms you ask? Les-isms are really just a few things that I have learned along my journey that I like to share. The learning has never ended nor have the Les-isms, but here I will share just a few. I hope that you find some joy and inspiration in them.

1. forgive yourself



2. equality

3. faint praise

4. sage advice

5. style

6. values

7. you ain't dead is ya?

8. team

9. shaving

10. do the right thing

11. pain

12. listening

13. karma

14. being wrong

15. empathy-2

16. advice

-More to come. Thanks for reading!

Francis I

Okay, (looks down at file) Francis I is it? (Shakes hand without actually looking at him) Alrightie then, Frank. You go by Frank don't you? (Does not wait for an answer) You have an impressive resume here, but nobody’s god you know? You can have this desk over here. Right now you'll want to take these forms down to Human Resources. You do want to get paid? They will have a couple orientation videos you need to watch. They’ll also give you a copy of the employee manual. Pay particular attention to the dress code here. Why yes, we do encourage creative hat wearing. Welcome aboard Frankie and make sure you label your lunch in the fridge.

The Life of Pie

Seductively you beckon from across the room, so brown, so golden, and so sweet. I thought I gave you up fifteen pounds ago. I have never looked back yet daily you’ve shouted and eventually barely whispered your sweet nothings until I thought you gone. You are here again and I am tempted, but you will not win me back.




The skeptics and haters said I lacked the will. They said that we’d be back together in no time.



I thought that they were so wrong and they were until now. It is the holidays. I expect you there. I expect you to complete my meal; my night should end with you.



It is not just you; I’ve abstained from the others as well. They so see me as a weak man. They too want their sweetness upon my lips. They want the control. They want me to crave all day and every day.



I’ve vowed to be strong. I don’t mean to be rude when I walk into a room were you sit. It is however best that I pretend that you are not there. I know that if I have you, I will need to have all of you.

Praying in the Aisles

Whenever social mores and conventions are challenged, forwarded or destroyed, those who are more conservative among us often ask “what next”? An example follows: A couple three months ago I was strolling about a local Salvation Army Thrift Store. As I recall, my mood was changing and not for the better as I shopped. I was not sure what was going on with me until I realized the problem. I couldn’t think or shop in that very loud Christian Rock music was blaring though the loudspeakers. It wasn’t even “Jars of Clay” or some such. It was like I would imagine a Christian Rock garage band to sound like had I ever gotten close enough. The music/radio station bothered me not because it was Christian, Rock or even Christian Rock. It was simply too loud and poorly presented in my opinion. It wasn’t background music. It was played at an audible level that one might enjoy at home. I felt it was trying to convert/proselytize people. It actually became more offensive the longer I remained in the store.


As I made my purchase, I told the clerk of my concern and she did not verbally respond. She rolled her eyes as if to say “anyone who would complain about Christian music probly need some.” I was on my way again, a little miffed at the down fall of customer service. A customer expresses a concern and does not even get a verbal response? What is the world coming to?

Before yesterday I had not returned to that store. Actually, it was by accident even then. I was running an errand in the area and just popped in for a look see. As I wondered the house wares section and maneuvered past a giant rolling cart with merchandize to be shelved, I passed a sales person that I have seen many times before. She is always polite, but appears far too serious about her work for me to do anything but ignore her. Yesterday was different. As I passed the woman another customer passed me and greeted the saleswoman. “Hi, how are you” the saleswoman asked? “I’m okay” the customer responded. The saleswoman then asked “Where is your husband? Is he wondering around here somewhere?” She then looked about the store and back at the woman. “He left me” was the weepy response. The saleswoman incredulously (I always wanted to use that word in a sentence) asked again. The customer told of how her husband recently went south to handle business with their second home. He apparently returned and announced things were over and left. “He did not even say goodbye to the children. He just got his stuff and left. Thirty years down the drain,” she added. The saleswoman gave her a bear hug and both women wept loudly. I was confused and alarmed by what happened next. Nosy bastard that I am, I quickly rolled my cart to the next aisle to remain in earshot.

The saleswoman started to loudly pray with the woman right there in the house wares section. “Oh, Jesus…” They both wept and prayed for Jesus to intercede. The saleswoman prayed for the return of the woman’s husband and family unit. She prayed for strength for herself and the woman. Her prayers lasted for roughly ten minutes as I stood an aisle over at this point pretending to look at the hanging shirts. It was like what one might expect at the end of one of those tele-evangelist shows where people are prayed for to be healed physically, spiritually and or emotionally. I was a little stunned by it all. I had never seen anything like it ever. The prayer circle, as I later learned it is called ended with each woman wishing the other well. The chatted of makeovers and starting life anew. Twenty minutes or so later I passed that customer in another aisle continuing her shopping.

I wasn’t sure what to think of all this at the time. How appropriate was this? One person suggested to me that the woman was in pain and “so what if they were praying in the aisles.” It was necessary to alleviate her pain, she added. I’m still confused. I can see both sides. I do think that it was great to help the woman who was obviously in great pain. I am also a tad selfish in that I believe that maybe it should all have taken place in a back room and not been part of my day? As I left the store, I could again here the loud Christian Rock. I thought ‘maybe I need a new thrift store/church.’