Oh my. How much fun is the bakery before the sun rises?
Today I got to meet our resident intellectual. He's a Catholic school literature teacher who takes his coffee sweetened...but he doesn't open the raw sugar packets. That's up to the lowly baristas.
This morning, clad in his gingham Izod shirt with plaid Izod boat shoes and chino pants, he took the time to explain to me that he knows "its kind of tough to remember these things, but his coffee should be 25% black and 75% Mexican Chocolate with enough room for four raw sugars. Not regular sugar, it's bad for the human body, you see? The brown has less additives."
Seriously?
Thanks for the pseudoscience, buddy.
Then he sat in a corner and highlighted his brand new copy of Wuthering Heights...and his bible.
And I couldn't help wondering what kind of comparisons to Cathy and Heathcliff he might draw in his class. While I always thought the enduring shadowboxing of two souls doomed/destined to be together was poetic, it never smacked biblical to me. Because I never went to a parochial school, beyond Gilgamesh and C.S. Lewis, I didn't spend too much time drawing biblical comparisons. But if this guy is an indication of the caliber of instruction, I'm feeling lucky to have been educated at good old public RHS.
Seeing these people every day and serving them coffee gives me pause. I keep being struck by the terrible feeling that I was also once guilty of such unintentional, blatant douchebaggery. Having worked in service, I've always been ultra-polite and kind of an over-tipper...but maybe I've done this to people too? The power of our words and their tone is constantly on my mind these days.
And speaking of tips: your barista, on average, spends more time making your tall, skinny soy macchiato with an extra shot and double drizzle than your bartender does pouring you a Bud Lt. Tip appropriately.
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