How to Order Coffee

That must be the most boring title in history. If I saw that on the internet I would not read it. Although luckily for you, this story is more entertaining than the title.

I was early for work in downtown Pittsburgh the other day. It's nice to be there early before the traffic gets bad and the 9-5ers turn the city into a zoo. On the ground floor of PNC Plaza sits a little coffee shop, almost too small to see if you weren't looking for it. It's called 21st Street Coffee and Tea. It's the stereotypical coffee shop experience. Soft, warm lighting, the latest classical guitar acoustic folk tunes playing, a twenty-something hipster girl working the counter using a soft voice, and probably ten other coffee shop cliches I can't think of now.

I wandered in and looked around. Even though it was small it did really seem like an oasis in a concrete jungle. It smelled wonderful and was quiet and peaceful as cars and people zoomed around just outside the door. As I took a look at the menu I noticed that there didn't seem to be much regular coffee stuff. Now, maybe it's because I didn't grow up in San Francisco or Seattle or some place, but I really did expect to see some dark roast working-man's kinda coffee mixed in with the fancy, pretentious stuff like a Peppermint Lotus Snowflake Boba green tea latte with a shot of Chai caramel eucalyptus lemon grass espresso. 

No regular coffee was to be found, at least not by an amateur coffee shop guest like me. Nonetheless, I was not going to let this ruin a pleasant morning experience, so I stepped up to the counter and asked what they had for regular coffee. 

The hipster girl pointed to a little chalkboard on the counter and said, "Well, we have these coffees on special today." 

She gave me a moment to read the extensive list of both coffees. I saw words there but didn't recognize either of them as coffee. The second option looked like something that sounded like a fruit or vegetable from the planet Glaivis. I must have looked lost and out of my element. I could feel her judging my simplicity.

Finally, feeling like I had to give her something, I said, "How bout we go with that first one there." 

"Great!" she said, and turned to grind the beans or harvest the coffee bush or whatever they do back there. 

As she started prepping my beverage, I decided to make small talk. I asked innocently, "How do you pronounce that, anyway? Persephone?" But because I'm smart, I pronounced it phonetically - persafone. Go ahead, say it to yourself right now. Per-sa-phone.  Me smart. 


(Brassiere Dog, anyone?)

Without sounding overly condescending, she answered, "It's pronounced per-SE-phon-ie. As in, the Greek goddess."

"Hmm," was all I could muster as I thought to myself, "Well, I can't come here again." 

I paid my $3.95 for my 6 ounces of sour cabbage coffee and left. 

While I was walking away I thought, "That sucked, but at least I didn't have an episode like that of Terry at McDonald's in North Carolina."

That was a special morning, as well. We had taken the whole fam damily on a road trip to a family wedding in North Carolina. Our little girl was only two months old, so we weren't sleeping much and were heavily reliant on caffeinated beverages. As the family slowly came to the morning after the long drive down south, Terry and I decided to run out for supplies.

First on the list was coffee since we didn't have time the night before to get any. We decided that in order to have the wherewithal to even find a grocery store to buy said coffee, we needed some fresh-brewed morning wake-up juice to give us the energy we needed. We drove down the road a few miles when I spotted a BP or something on the right at the same time Terry spotted a Co-Go's or something on the left. Instead of making an easy right, Terry cut off six cars and almost caused a fiery pile-up in making an immediate left-hand turn, but we safely arrived at a place that was sure to have coffee. 

We went in and each poured ourselves a small cup since we only needed it to get us through the fog. We paid and walked outside the door where we held up our cups and toasted to our successful treasure hunt, took a breath of the fresh country air and took our first sips. There were odd glances at the cups, smirks exchanged, and then pronouncements to the effect of "That's good bathwater" and "It's got a great dirty sock flavor." We walked to the nearest trash can and tossed them in feeling a bit dejected. 

Not to be deterred, we set out again in search of a tolerable cup of joe. We had seen a McDonald's a few miles back and decided that familiar and adequate is better than brown and septic.

We walked in and Terry went right up to the counter to the doe-eyed teenage girl behind the cash register. (Before I continue I should mention that no McDonald's employees were permanently injured during the filming of this scene.)

As I said, Terry walked up to the girl and said, "I would like two large black coffees." As he said this, he turned to me as if he forgot I was there and snorted, "Er, uh, I mean, one large coffee, and one, uh, black, small, the, um large one black, small the, er, he wants, I mean....small...."

In my head as this was happening, his fumbling was replaced by my inner monologue that speculated, "I wonder if he needs help. Should I step in and save him from having a stroke? Probably not. He's a trained professional. Is he alright? I'm sure he's fine. I'll let him push the ol' reset button and he'll be fine." But that was not to happen anytime soon, and I was having too much fun enjoying the episode unfolding before my very eye crusties. 

I tuned back in.

 "....uhhh, err two small large, one cream small, snarf, ehh erph, large..."

As he descended into less comprehensible words and more general noises and grunts, the girl behind the counter slowly began to appear legitimately frightened and concerned for her safety, for he would certainly soon explode. 

"....he wants, small large (incomprehensible gurgling and snorting) sugar, black, uh cream, me small......I NEED COFFEE TO ORDER COFFEE!"

I finally stepped in and told her I wanted a small coffee with cream and sugar. 

Exhausted from his efforts and likely feeling defeated and embarrassed by the coffee ordering process, Terry kept quiet as we walked out. We finally made it back to the car with the coffee that we needed to go buy coffee. 

At first we enjoyed our coffee in peace, as neither one of us was willing to talk about what happened inside. It would be like a conversation between two old war veterans who fifty years prior were in a battle where everyone was lost except for the two of them, who survived by drinking the tears of children while hiding under the bodies of dead puppies.

Once we got moving I had to bring up the elephant in the room that was Terry's little episode. We both began laughing hysterically and Terry had to pull the car over before we even left the parking lot. For a full five minutes there we laughed like idiots until we were able to compose ourselves and drive away. Not a half-mile down the road we were again forced to pull to the side of the road for fear of a different kind of accident. 

Eventually, and not without hardship, we were successful in our mission to buy coffee to buy coffee. 

But just a warning - be careful ordering coffee. For some of us, it's not as easy as it sounds.