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Aw, I say, I won't want to go in there.
Come on! Jordan says, It will be fun!
We are standing outside the doors of a godforsaken place otherwise known as Starbucks. Funny, isn't it? Any Starbucks in the world looks like any other Starbucks. A sort of worldwide corporate organism, like the company I work for. The Borg: we become parasites of what was supposed to be working for us, giving us money to pay for food and rent, or giving us a service.
I sigh, and we walk in.
As we enter, I say, History will put this capitulation right up there with the likes of Munich and such.
Well, Chamberlain didn't actually know what he was doing, Jordan says, maybe this is more like the fall of the Berlin Wall.
The first thing we hear as we cross the doors is, One skinny grande decaf Mocha, please.
And then, a big smile that says, Right away!
Oh, God.
I hate this place.
Whatever happened to grumpiness? Can't people that work in coffee shops or restaurants ever be angry? or tired? Can't they be human?
There are four people in front of us. A lot of expensive, four-word hot beverages to go before our turn comes. These drinks are so expensive there are people in Africa that would live for a week on the cost of a single paper-cup of this stuff.
So, where did you go? I say. The first person in the line orders a tall decaf latte.
Oh, Eddie gives me the creeps, I had to get out. Thanks for keeping him busy, Jordan says, then she gives me a kiss.
Okay, maybe it wasn't a bad tradeoff after all.
I hear, small decaf capuccino, please.
Did you get to see who put those guys to build the table? I say, They looked lost. All those instructions...
The New Eddie, Jordan says.
I guessed as much, I say, Amazing. You just need to slap a title on someone for them to start behaving like assholes.
In front of us, I hear, Thank you! Good Morning! And then, A tall capuccino with an extra shot, please.
Well, not everyone does that... Jordan says, grabbing my arm, and I can see that she's amused at me being pissed off. She rarely gets angry, certainly not in the face of stupidity. Me, I can't help it. Face goes red, Blood boils, and all that. That's one of the things she likes about me, she said once. I guess that it's part of the entertainment factor in every relationship.
Yeah, I say, I know. It's just that I wish things were different. If titles didn't have meaning beyond what's earned, beyond reality...
Maybe it's the problem of civilization, Jordan says, Maybe as we get more sophisticated words have more meaning because we rely more on communication. And eventually words are the only thing that matters. Reality becomes just an excuse.
Semantics, eh? I say, Maybe. We end up with all these words that precisely describe what we want, what we get, what we are, and then what's really behind them gets lost, somehow. But how can we fix it? I mean, we can change things now if we want to ...
I hear, a tall skinny latte, please.
We'll have to think about it, Jordan says.
Meanwhile, our turn has come. I am faced with a person hiding behind a smile that says, Good morning!
Perky are we?
Hi, I'd like two coffees to go, please. Black.
Our brew of the day! The Smile translates. Then, he waits. Since I don't say anything, he asks, What size?
Regular.
Blank stare.
What size? The Smile says.
I'm sorry sir, small, tall or grande? The Smile says.
I look at Jordan. She laughs.
That's civilization for you.
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