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Alan sat down in the single, red easy chair by the window. From the small backpack he’d placed next to the chair, he removed the novel he wished to read undisturbed. Before opening the book, he scanned the coffee shop while savoring the aroma of freshly ground and brewed coffee. Approaching middle age in the nineteen nineties was proving to be an increasingly complex issue, and Alan knew starting to read would prove fruitless until a little ritual had been concluded.
It was eleven in the morning, and the coffee shop was already teeming with the assortment of clientele one would normally associate with this hour of a busy weekday. Several young women, presumably secretaries on a rushed break, gathered around a large table at the far end of the shop; this looked, and sounded, like a daily gathering. Pairs of women, deep in conversation, occupied the smaller tables, under which lay collections of chic bags; shopping had been successful but exhausting, and a coffee break was in order. Standing by the coffee bar, or lounging against tall stools, Alan observed dark-suited men manacled to those serious watches that ruled their lives and would soon be driving them from this caffeine-enriched oasis and back to the office to make more money. In addition, and only briefly, he saw rushed messengers, sent out of meetings to collect much-needed liquid sustenance essential to revitalize those self-important people who were too busy to actually collect their own coffee.
And, of course, there was the solitary, minimum-waged, under-tipped, over-worked waitress.
Alan knew his life was not as hectic as those of everyone else in this New York coffee shop. He could wait. But he resisted the temptation to begin his reading.
Spinning round from one urgent order to the next, the waitress finally realized a single male had been sitting patiently for service. Ignoring the calls elsewhere for refills, she reassembled her smile and smartly approached the single, red easy chair by the window.
‘Hi, how can I help?’
Alan smiled. ‘Good morning…’ He stared at her name tag and continued, ‘…Megan. Before I order, I think it only fair to warn you that this may prove to be a little more complicated and out of the ordinary than a usual order.’
‘O-kay,’ replied Megan, adding a hint of worried curiosity to her voice but without losing her well-practiced smile.
‘I think, Megan, it would be easier to inform you of that which I do not wish to partake this morning. Consider it ordering by a process of elimination.’
‘O-kay,’ replied Megan again, worry beginning to diminish her smile. She licked her lips, and repositioned the pen above her pad.
Alan began.
‘I do not want to go large. I believe that is the expression currently in use.
‘I do not wish to have my coffee adulterated by any form of lactose-based product, no matter how frothy and light.
‘I do not wish to have the taste of my coffee enhanced by any form of additional flavoring, even if some remote businessman has declared it to be flavor of the month.
‘I do not wish to have any form of dusting on top of my drink.
‘I will not be requiring any form of pastry, muffin, cake, or pie to be added to my order, although I am sure you have a fine selection of such items on these premises.
‘I will not be needing my cup to be preheated, no matter how small the additional charge may be.
‘I do not wish my coffee to go.’
Megan started to frown slightly, more from confusion than irritation. And, despite Alan’s consistent, even-mannered politeness, her smile was definitely fading.
Customers seated near the single, red easy chair were beginning to shut down their own conversations, recognizing that a little eavesdropping might prove to be an entertaining diversion from the humdrum of their daily lives. Smiles were spreading.
Alan continued.
‘When paying for my coffee, I do not wish to participate in any store-based card scheme offering bonus points for regular custom.
‘I do not wish to use a credit card, debit card, or any other form of electronic financial transaction. I will be using cash.
‘I will not be requiring a receipt, particularly as the item in question will cost me far less than five dollars and is, of course, non-tax deductible. I am sure a tree somewhere in the Amazonian rain forest will thank me for this.
‘I do not want to be asked for my zip code, address, date of birth, star sign, or indeed any other personal information superfluous to the purchasing of a hot beverage.’
Megan’s shoulders had been gradually drooping, and she too was now aware of the lack of busy background hubbub. The clientele had become an audience.
Alan smiled. He really did feel sorry for Megan. It wasn’t her fault. She had been trying valiantly to maintain a professional smile. He knew he would tip her well if she managed to navigate the final part of the transaction.
‘So, Megan, what does that leave us with? After eliminating all the possibilities, what shall my order be?’
‘Black coffee?’ replied Megan, tentatively.
A round of applause greeted her solution, accompanied by a few ironic cheers.
Megan blushed, smiled at Alan, and wrote the simple order on her pad.
Within a minute, Megan delivered to Alan a cup of hot black coffee. For his part he handed over two 2-dollar bills, and instructed her to keep the change. She had earned it.
They smiled at each other once more, knowing, without speaking, that a small blow had been struck for common sense and against the faceless corporations seeking to complicate our already over-stressed lives.
Alan took a first sip of his coffee, picked up his book, and smiled once more. At the adjacent table he heard Megan ask her next customer a single, simple question.
‘Coffee?’
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First published in The Writers’ Journal, Vol. 1, on 1 December 2024.
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AUTHOR BIO:
Recently nominated for BEST SMALL FICTIONS 2027, Michael Smith’s fiction has already appeared over sixty times in online literary journals such as Fabula Argentea, Witcraft, Literally Stories, Microromance, Heimat Review, The Hooghly Review, Little Old Lady Comedy, and many others. To date, he has self-published a historical fantasy called Dinner Time, two volumes in the Gruseltal series, and three collections of short stories, Fonts, Songs, and L < M, all available from online bookstores. Author website: https://frucht-schleifen.weebly.com/
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WHY WE CHOSE TO PUBLISH “Coffee?”:
Author Michael Smith delivered this delightful piece that we felt captured the frustration of coffee purists. And if you look at the photo we chose to accompany this piece… Thirty varieties of coffee beverages? You could have a different one almost each day of the month—although you’d need to find a coffee house that serves alcohol if you wanted the Irish coffee.
Anyway, this one gave us a chuckle.