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It was an interesting morning.
Sep. 1st, 2009 08:55 A Little Girl's Cell Phone
I made a little girl's morning.
On my way to work, I stopped at the local coffee house to get my morning latté and a bit of breakfast. While at the end of the counter waiting on my drink, I noticed a little girl - she must have been four years old - also standing at nearby with her mom. She caught my eye, and I smiled at her.
She was playing with a toy cell phone. She walked up to the counter and put the toy on it. She laid it longwise, parallel to the edge.
Okay, yes, I know this game. I took out my cell phone and laid it on the counter, crosswise. I caught her eye. I looked at my phone. I looked at her phone. I mimed a sudden awareness of my mistake and hastily turned it longwise. She smiled, big. A delighted, engaging smile that took in her whole face. A smile that started at the eyes. A smile with awareness.
At that moment her mom's drink arrived, so it was time to put the phone away. Her little girl jeans' pockets were too small for the phone: it took both hands, but she got it in there. As she turned to leave, watching me, I took my phone and, eyes locked with hers, dropped it neatly into my jeans pocket.
She smiled all the way out the door.
An obvious difference
Yesterday, the coffee shop was packed. Each table was full and there were at least a half dozen people waiting at the counter. The drive-thru was backed up into the street.
The barista making my coffee was a young woman. Her frock was mostly clean, with a little staining around the cuffs. She filled the frothing pitchers only halfway, careful to adjust the steam so as not to overflow. The water in the basin for the cleaning rag was a little cloudy, but still see-through. The counter in front of the machine shined. My latté, however, was made with skim-milk, not the way I ordered it.
This morning, a little less busy. I walked in, right to the counter, placed my order.
The barista was a young man in an over-used, under-cleaned frock. There was milk everywhere: you could barely see the counter in front of the machine. He filled the pitchers nearly full and turned on the steam full-blast. The water in the basin for the cleaning rag wasn't really water any more.
My latté was perfect.
I made a little girl's morning.
On my way to work, I stopped at the local coffee house to get my morning latté and a bit of breakfast. While at the end of the counter waiting on my drink, I noticed a little girl - she must have been four years old - also standing at nearby with her mom. She caught my eye, and I smiled at her.
She was playing with a toy cell phone. She walked up to the counter and put the toy on it. She laid it longwise, parallel to the edge.
Okay, yes, I know this game. I took out my cell phone and laid it on the counter, crosswise. I caught her eye. I looked at my phone. I looked at her phone. I mimed a sudden awareness of my mistake and hastily turned it longwise. She smiled, big. A delighted, engaging smile that took in her whole face. A smile that started at the eyes. A smile with awareness.
At that moment her mom's drink arrived, so it was time to put the phone away. Her little girl jeans' pockets were too small for the phone: it took both hands, but she got it in there. As she turned to leave, watching me, I took my phone and, eyes locked with hers, dropped it neatly into my jeans pocket.
She smiled all the way out the door.
An obvious difference
Yesterday, the coffee shop was packed. Each table was full and there were at least a half dozen people waiting at the counter. The drive-thru was backed up into the street.
The barista making my coffee was a young woman. Her frock was mostly clean, with a little staining around the cuffs. She filled the frothing pitchers only halfway, careful to adjust the steam so as not to overflow. The water in the basin for the cleaning rag was a little cloudy, but still see-through. The counter in front of the machine shined. My latté, however, was made with skim-milk, not the way I ordered it.
This morning, a little less busy. I walked in, right to the counter, placed my order.
The barista was a young man in an over-used, under-cleaned frock. There was milk everywhere: you could barely see the counter in front of the machine. He filled the pitchers nearly full and turned on the steam full-blast. The water in the basin for the cleaning rag wasn't really water any more.
My latté was perfect.