Word Picture

After only a few months of working full time at the so called “coffee and sunshine cafe”, I was already disillusioned with the retro décor and cheery atmosphere. Looking through fresh eyes, I too would marvel at the old leather sofas and 60’s style tables with former public-school chairs, the unfinished hardwood floors, the local art filling every inch of burnt orange and turquoise walls. I would enjoy the strong aroma of freshly ground coffee and baked goods, made from scratch daily. I might comment about the strange lamp on the counter, the one with the mannequin leg post adorned in fishnet tights and a high heel. Or, I would inquire about the sign reading “This area reserved for The Council of Elders from 6:00 am- 7:00 am. Thank you for respecting the sacred space of the Elders.” But there was no need to inquire- as an employee I knew it was just a group of old guys who would gather to drink coffee and smoke cigarettes on the back patio. It was a neighborhood place, quirky to say the least. After working there for three months I no longer paid attention to what a new customer might, but the regulars I had come to know by name, order, and mug. I had come to know and like them, expecting their presence to add some interest to my day.