Dear Guy at the Coffee Shop,
I should probably start by telling you I lied to you.
Well, not so much lied. I was just kidding.
I didn’t think you’d take me seriously.
See, I draped my sweatshirt over the chair next to me, ya know, easy access in case I got cold?
So when you approached me and asked if anybody was sitting there, despite there being no evidence aside from the sweatshirt, I thought I’d make a joke.
“Yeah, I’m actually waiting for Godot…”
You looked slightly confused before you took your bag and sat a couple seats away.
Alright, my existentialist humor doesn’t get me a lotta dates, duly noted.
But before I had time to explain that reference, you had already moved over and, well, it just seemed awkward to go over there and try to explain myself.
Rest assured, Beckett humor will never be attempted again.
Still, sorry for the confusion.
Dear Coffee Shop Patrons,
Oh, that smell? You’re right, it does kinda smell like a cheap dive bar in here…
What? You just noticed that when I walked in the door?
What a strange coincidence! No, I haven’t the slightest idea why that might be.
It’s certainly not because I spent the better part of Monday in a bitter, drunken rage.
I mean, can you imagine?!?
… okay, yeah, that was a lie.
But I swear, I wasn’t just pissed because I spilled vodka on my pants and that’s valuable alcohol wasted.
… yes, I am wearing those pants today.
Look, like you smell so freakin’ great?!?
I’ve had it with your judgment games! Yeah, that’s right, I’m talkin’ to you, old man!
You wanna throw down, we can throw down!
… wow, this escalated quickly. Ya know what, there’s a good chance I’m still a little bit rage drunk from last night.
Dear Woman in Front Of Me In Line At the Coffee Shop,
It’s not that you paid for your coffee and danish in change that bothers me.
I get it, times are tough. Gotta do whatchu can to get by, I hear ya.
It’s the fact that you didn’t start counting the change until you had completed your order.
Now, I’ve seen you in here before, doing the exact same routine.
And guess what?
Your coffee and danish is gonna cost exactly the same amount as it did yesterday.
You know how much it’s gonna cost! So why on God’s green earth are you just starting to pull out change now?!?
I don’t mean to be a dick, but I haven’t had my caffeine yet, so I can’t really be held accountable for my actions.
Dear Coffee Shop Patrons,
I’m not crazy. I should probably lead with that.
I know it seems hard to believe, but I swear I’m not.
The muttering I’m doing?
It’s fine, I’m just talking to the fly that keeps buzzing around in my peripheral vision. Totally normal.
Although I could see how the unwashed and wild-haired dude next to you, grumbling, “I’m gonna murder you…” might be cause for alarm…
Still, when I swatted it, I really didn’t mean to knock your drink over, sir.
I offered to buy you a refill, but instead, you just kinda looked at me like the spaz I am.
The worst part? I didn’t even kill the damn thing.
It’s still buzzing around here somewhere…
… did you just walk into the coffee shop on Havenhurst?
I coulda sworn it was you!
Oh, no? Oh, okay, then it was just a guy with long hair and poor hygiene then… my bad.
Dear Attractive Coffee Shop Guy,
Hi, it’s me again. Yeah, the guy who keeps self-consciously pushing the hair out of his eyes whenever you look in his general direction.
Anyways, I know we haven’t really talked much before.
I mean, there was that time when you were leaning over to plug your computer charger in to the outlet that was right behind me, and I offered to plug it in for you.
(Readers, I swear it wasn’t as sexual as it sounds.)
And when you handed me your cord, our hands touched for a minute? Yeah, that was a pretty special moment for me too.
Anyways, just wanted to say hi, maybe we should get married, I dunno just a thought, but yeah, have a great day!
Dear Overly Chummy Coffee Shop Patron,
I’m sure you’re a great guy. The very fact that so many people at this coffee place talk to you is evidence of that. It looks like you’ve got a lotta great friends.
But here’s the thing. I’m not one of them.
It’s not that I don’t wanna be. I’m sure we’d have hours of stimulating coffee shop conversation, but I just can’t right now.
See, I’ve got this thing called a thesis defense coming up and, well, if you knew me you’d know that I’m a naturally anxious person and, if at all possible, this is even worse.
I come here because this coffee shop isn’t home, meaning I don’t have a TV, a dog, or roommates to distract me.
The point of leaving a place with distractions is so that you won’t be distracted.
You, sir, are a distraction.
So, if you wanna make small talk and throw a couple of quips about the Kings my way after my thesis defense?
Well, I still probably won’t be happy, but I could live with it.
Dear Small Children in the Coffee Shop,
I will end you.
Seriously, I now understand why you drive your mothers to develop addictions to Ritalin and why you drive your fathers to extramarital affairs.
… it’s so they don’t hafta be around you, right?
Whatever the reason, one thing is perfectly clear.
You lot are insufferable.
Seriously, the best form of birth control is spending a morning with you.
If you wanna bug your parents, that’s fine, but when you start bumping into my chair, causing me to spill my tea, all because you wanted to play an impromptu game of tag?
Yeah, not cool.
Please confine your ADHD antics to the schoolyard.
At least those people are paid to put up with you…
Dear Bitchy Barista,
I have appreciation for the fact that you hafta wake up early and deal with a lotta shitty people.
I just wish you’d recognize I’m not one of them.
I’m not the guy who ran over your puppy when you were a kid.
I’m not the guy who stole your prom date.
And I’m definitely not the yuppie you’re so used to serving.
All I asked was for a large tea.
No Splenda, no honey, no cream. Nothing more difficult than grabbing two tea bags and a cup of hot water.
You wanna get pissed at the folks that order blended drinks? I get it, I’m right there with ya.
But not all customers are created equal, so stop treating me like the uptight bitch behind me that keeps wavering between soy milk and skim milk today.
Dear Caribou Clique,
I know that I’m probably one of the “undesirables” in your coffee-infused world.
I get it. You know what you like. And evidently, it’s not me.
I wouldn’t have such a problem with it if it weren’t for the fact that one of you (who shall remain nameless) begrudgingly sat at my table.
I know, most of the seats at your usual table were taken up, so I just decided to roll with it.
After all, I’m at a table for four, so there at least three empty spots here so it was a pretty natural progression to migrate east to my table.
It’s not so much that you sat at my table. It’s more the way you left it.
I wouldn’t have minded if you packed up and moved to the other table, it’s how you did it.
Don’t act like you’re sneaking out after a torrid one-night stand.
In fact, don’t sneak off at all.
Just pack up and leave. I really don’t mind.
It’s just, the way that you snuck off? Well, it kinda makes us both look cheap.
Just keep that in mind next time you find yourself sitting next to an “undesirable.”