$5.87
$3.21
$1.89
Small, frequent transactions. Numbers spoken so often, to so many, they roll off the tongue the way one reflexively reaches for a seatbelt. They become rote. Ingrained into your everyday life. Something that you only notice once there’s a dramatic change. Like when $3.14 became $3.21 (medium cappuccino), and you had to have a conversation with Tim about why.
Which brings us to Tim – Cappuccino Man, as he’s affectionately known – the man you know because he, like you, is here everyday, at the same time, doing the same thing. It’s become rote. Ingrained into your everyday life. You both collectively acknowledge the price increase, make some off-hand comments about inflation, and chuckle regretfully.
Tim gets the same medium cappuccino every single day. So, it’s easy enough to remember and put the order in without him having to say it, which in turn opens up space for us to talk about other things. Like Tim’s love of drag racing, how he connects with his son over the roar of engines and screeching tires, or about how his bathroom counter was mistakenly demolished instead of his kitchen counter. All the while, he watches your blob of over-aerated milk foam slowly refine into a heart shape, then a tulip.
People like when you remember their orders. Deep down, I think we all want to be regulars, to be recognized, to feel a part of something, to feel like your maneuvers through time and space have left some form of an imprint. When someone remembers your order, they remember you. You matter. And that feels good.
$4.28 (Four shots of espresso, a touch of honey, sparkling water, no ice)
That’s Mr. Jackson.
Mr. Jackson liked his conversation like he liked his coffee: quick, strong, a touch of sweetness. He was always in a hurry but always had time to chat. Mr. Jackson was from Chicago, so maybe his conversation style simply reflected his big-city sensibilities, but they stood out in this small, Southern town.
No matter the length of our conversation, the topics we covered carried both breadth and depth. Nothing was off the table. But with Mr. Jackson, one topic came up almost every day. He had sons. He was proud of them. In a way I almost envied. The conversation almost always circled back to them, how they were doing in school, where their next track meet was. I never expected a conversation with a customer to send me down my own psychoanalytic spirals, but I’d often leave a chat with Mr. Jackson thinking about things like forgiveness, love, and compassion, even if all we talked about was our mutual need for caffeine. Thoughtfulness was effortless for Mr. Jackson. He had a way with words, an ability to question, and careful and compassionate eye contact that made you feel comfortable sharing, comfortable challenging your preconceived notions, and comfortable listening despite the line of customers behind him. And maybe above all his passion for his sons was infectious, inspiring, endearing.
These conversations, their impact, they’re easy to understand and appreciate now, with hindsight. However, in the moment, the monotony of work and its accompanying feelings of disdain and dread took over so many of my days. Along with the repetitive, ever-rising prices, the dumping pots of coffee, wiping tables, and sweeping floors all became rote, ingrained into everyday life. Inundated in the minutiae of the everyday, I lost sight of what morphed every-day into to-day. Sure the shots pull the same, the ice machine needs to be cleaned, the grinder broke again, but while the drudgeries may define a moment or even a day, it’s the delights that define an experience.
Price varied (one medium drip coffee, one hot cocoa with whipped cream, and one [whatever the seasonal latte was])
Some of my favorite regulars were the Walkers, a lovely family consisting of JR, his wife Ruby, and her daughter MJ. They stumbled into the shop one day, were astonished, and ended up coming back at least once a week from then on.
Our first conversation, like many of my first conversations with customers, began with how I even ended up in this town. It seems most people are shocked anyone could end up in what most would categorize as the middle of nowhere. But here I was. So I told them about my past lives. The one where I taught. The one where I was an aspiring academic. I told them I left all that to fulfill a dream of making coffee for a living and that, in a nutshell, is how I ended up here.
They asked about my thesis. That surprised me. I dug around and found my elevator pitch from grad school buried somewhere deep in my memory and gave them the spiel about Southern mill towns, resistance, rhetoric, and public memory (I was an overly-ambitious, under-industrious aspiring academic, but I promise my thesis actually makes some sense). They appreciated my research. That too surprised me. Usually people just smile and nod, but they came from mill families, so they connected to it. And most surprising to me, they remembered my research and constantly brought it back up.
Eventually I would learn about how they ended up here; about JR’s time in Honduras, where the coffee was stronger than any he’d ever had; about Ruby telling JR when they met about her daughter with disabilities; about, to her amazement, JR being more than capable of quelling her concerns thanks to his previous work as the principal of a school for the deaf. Coincidences, right?
Along with remembering orders, it was a mission of mine to remember to do some little things, to add some personal touches, to make my regular customers’ experiences unique and special.
For Tim, this meant seeing his truck drive past and having his cappuccino ready before he even paid. It meant filling Mr. Jackson’s sparkling water to the top when the boss wasn’t looking. It meant noticing MJ likes a straw with her hot drinks and to bring one without them asking.
And those little things I guess, make a difference. Particularly when asking can be a challenge. MJ’s disabilities make speaking and hearing difficult which made communicating with an idiot barista like me quite a challenge. But I picked up on what I could, and tried my best where I couldn’t. This led to me memorizing some basic sign language in an attempt to bridge the gap between us. I learned to sign “thank you,” and “you’re welcome,” and “see you next time,” and though my signing was limited, the smile on her face was truly limitless. After this she opened up to me and the conversations we had writing to each other back and forth in her notebook linger as much as any spoken words.
These experiences, their meaningfulness, it’s easy to recognize them, to expound upon them now. I’ve moved on. Hindsight is clearer than the foggy monotony of work life. When you’re trapped in an endless cycle of workplace melodrama, it’s hard to have perspective on the meaningfulness of the moments you’re experiencing. How each one is a brick building up to what you will eventually remember.
It may seem strange to some that you can build a meaningful relationship in a retail space. That even with 3-feet of bar and a transaction of funds separating you, strangers can become friends. But it happens. And I think it happens a lot when your intentions are true, when doing the little things and having the little conversations matters to you.
Maybe one of the saddest truths about our culture is that we tend to wait until endings to express our feelings. We wait for yearbooks to write thoughtful notes to friends we’ll never speak to again. We wait until breakups to tell someone how much we appreciate (or hate) them. We wait until funerals to tell dead people how much they meant to us alive.
People, and our interactions with them, can easily be taken for granted. They become rote, ingrained into our everyday life. Only when there’s a drastic change it seems do we pause and take notice. For better or worse, it wasn’t until I told all my regulars I was leaving that I told them how much I was grateful for them. And it wasn’t until I told them I was leaving that they shared how grateful they were for me. Customers cried on my shoulder (no seriously, they did), I received notes, books, numbers, handshakes, and simple well-wishes.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t surprised. I was caught off-guard, taken aback, utterly bamboozled. I knew they had touched me. I didn’t even begin to grasp how much I had touched them.
And now I just hope they know how much they touched me.
The Walkers gave me a book when I left with a little note scribbled on the title page:
“You never know the impact you have.”
an excerpt for your week
“So many people walk around with a meaningless life. They seem half-asleep, even when they're busy doing things they think are important. This is because they're chasing the wrong things. The way you get meaning into your life is to devote yourself to loving others, devote yourself to your community around you, and devote yourself to creating something that gives you purpose and meaning.”
from Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom
Very often I feel like the half-asleep one, caught up in my own importance. Here’s to a bit of humility.
a journal prompt for your week
Has someone impacted you? How so? Now, think about how you may have impacted them.
I like journaling. Maybe you do too. If not, maybe it’s just food for thought.
If you do write something and you would like to share it, I’d love to read it. You can send it to theguidelines@substack.com or leave a comment.
korick is…
korick is reading Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom
korick is watching Ahsoka on Disney+
korick is listening to Fortune Favors the Bold by Dave East
korick is paying attention to hurricanes. I just moved to the coast and they’re scary.
What are you consuming or paying attention to? I’m always taking recommendations.
If you made it this far, you’re awesome. I greatly appreciate you. I don’t really know what I’m doing with this newsletter, but maybe it added some value to your day.
Here’s to many more.
I agree. You're so talented and I pictured this in my mind as you were telling the story. I can't wait to read more.
This was beautiful, touching and brought tears to my eyes Your writing is moving and thought provoking. I look forward to reading more!