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chuckles
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I read something about it being hard to be seen in cyberspace. It was something to do with websites – with there being so many – so many billions of them – that it’s easy to be present in cyberspace without being seen there. It’s just like walking down a busy street; just before each person passes you look them directly in the eye. They won’t look at you – they’ll turn away, put their head down and rush past you, not wanting any confrontation or interaction. You can walk down the street without being seen.
This got me thinking – and I was thinking as I was walking down a street and past a coffee shop. So I went in, I placed my laptop down on the counter and I waited a couple of minutes.
Then this waitress came up to me. And she was fit – really fit. And she smiled and asked me what I’d like. Which seems like the best thing that could happen to a guy who’s feeling a bit lonely right now – a beautiful girl walks up to him and smiles.
But think about how many times this happens to you – lonely or not. You walk in somewhere and it’s full of people, full of people who you might like, who you might fancy, who you might want to fuck or have a great conversation with. And some of them smile at you and ask if they can help you. It happens all the time – every shop and supermarket, every café and bar there they all are – manning the counters and tills, the phone-lines and e-mails. And none of it means a thing.
It’s all caught up in this contractual world where everyone is just performing a function. The fit girl isn’t talking to you; she’s just doing a job, what the company pays her for. And you’re just buying a product or a service.
And if you step out of these rules, these unspoken guidelines, then people get uncomfortable. We don’t know how to act towards each other unless a transaction is being made.
So you spend every day within feet, inches, of these brilliant, wonderful people – and you never actually meet any one of them. We just smile straight through each other, and leave it at that.
But then this waitress kept talking to me. Properly talking, not asking if I wanted a bagel or a cinnamon biscuit. I was kind-of in her way, I think, which may have caused it. I was on a stool at the end of the counter, right by where the staff get through to the kitchen, and I placed my laptop down in front of me. Then I lay my newspaper at the side of it and shifted the stool along a bit so I could fold the paper out. The waitress kept brushing past me and we both muttered awkward apologies a couple of times. It broke the ice – the cold, hard ice. She was pouring coffee at the machine behind the counter and we just started talking, normally. Well, she was having to nip away to serve people so the sentences kept coming out half at a time. Then we were using the minimum number of words to say what we meant so we could get it in before someone shouted “Cappuccino!” from across the room. And we made each other laugh, a little.
Then while she was away in the kitchen I picked up her receipt pad and scribbled my name and number down. I left it on the counter and stood up. She came out of the kitchen and maybe, just maybe, she looked a little disappointed to see me leave. So I smiled, and I said I might come back someday.
Then after she texted me that afternoon I came back the next day, and today. We’ve been talking constantly – I think she’s been skiving off a bit and she’s sneaking me free coffee when the boss isn’t in. The service here is excellent. And I haven’t paid for a thing.
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050831
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