My Stupid Purchase
to make a short story long.
i went to the worker's comp doctor for my back. it turns out i have a back, a.k.a. spine, and apparently lifting heavy objects in certain ways can strain it.
i walked into the office because it's set up for walk-ins, no appointment necessary.
"hi"
"hi"
"how are you"
"I'm fine thanks, how are you?"
"I'm fine too thanks, how are you?"
"I'm fine, how are you?"
"good, thanks, you?"
"fantastic, thanks, yourself?"
"oh marvelously wonderful"
there was a sign with waiting times for various services and according to the sign, mine was only 75 minutes.
"so it's a 75 minute wait?"
"it'll be less than an hour."
"ok."
so i went outside to stretch my legs and get some tea, but i recalled the last time i looked for tea in the neighborhood when i was there for a different injury, shoulder ache/pain and elbow pain. I recalled that the closest place to get tea was lame and long walk from where i was.
so i figured i'd walk towards the nearby blue note coffee, the coffee company founded by all the famous jazzers on the blue note label, miles davis, miles davis, julian "cannonball" adderly, and a lot of other famous jazzers.
on the way, i walked through the wholesale produce market and saw all of the wholesale produce. There was a lot of it, and saw the workers lifting the boxes of produce, and i could relate because i lift shit at my job too, in fact, that's why i was there, in their neighborhood. just by looking at me, all the wholesale produce workers/lifters knew that my back was injured, and many of them had had the same injury so they spontaneously all screamed. "take care of your fucking back", except it was in spanish and chinese and english, so the spanish part was "cuidate con su espalda."
"thank you, you guys are all doing a fantastic job, and i know you're paid handsomely for it and that you don't squander your money on alcohol, illegal drugs or prostitutes, so kudos to you."
"so marijuana is ok?"
"yes, marijuana is ok."
they all breathed a sigh of relief.
right near the wholesale produce market was blue note coffee.
i got in line which was out the door of the small place, and i began to wait and wait, and wait, and wait, and then i started to think.
this whole fucking thing is a meditation, being still in line, listening to the crappy music of the barristas, being still in line, smelling the coffee, wondering if i have any cash.
I asked the barrista guy, some 20 something bohemian wearing a vest, "do you take debit"
"uh"
"do you take credit"
"we take credit, sometimes we have problems with debit."
and then i returned to my acute observations.
it's daytime, look at the light. it's cloudy today. they're all grey. my spine hurts waiting in this line. these people are sure waiting
ONe guy took the orders, the other poured the water into the drip filters. about half an hour later when my mind was fully at peace after thinking about coffee in the coffee line, it was my turn to order, and i knew this because the barrista guy looked at me with an inquisitive look.
"I'd lilke a small coffee...please, please, if it's not too much trouble."
"why certainly"
and then the other guys started pouring the water into the drip filter in a circular motion, as stated by the barrista's manual which says, "pour the water into the filter in a circular motion so that the beans don't wash up on the sides of it, depriving the customer of our mouth watering flavor."
5 minutes later, my coffee was ready.
"that's $2.75"
"can i finance it"
"we don't offer credit, what about getting a job."
"I have a job."
"maybe you could get a credit card."
"I already have debt. I don't want any more."
"sounds like you need to rethink your spending habits."
"i could give you $1.75 for it."
"no."
i stood there, stunned, not really caring about getting coffee to drink because it upsets my stomach anyhow, and i probably could have got by with just some tiny sample size like they give you at the local chain boutique market. i probably should have bummed some off of the people who pour a little out to make room for milk or cream, but i know this bumming would offend people who don't want riff-raff in their high end coffee shop.
"could you pour half out and sell it to me for $1.45?"
"no."
i handed the guy my card and like a machine, he "swiped" it, as they say in the business, which is really apropos because charging that much is essentially the same as stealing or swiping money from people.
my back started feeling much better, i forgot about it as my wallet began to hurt, bleeding, screaming after having it's innards ripped out without ceremony.
and that's it. i spent $2.75 on a fucking cup of coffee, and i didn't even drink the whole thing.
i walked back to the doctor's office. they called me, i walked into the small room with the door. the doctor stepped in.
"how are you?"
"i think something's wrong with me."
she looked at me with her eyes, waiting.
"i just spent $2.75 on a coffee."
she screamed in a really gutteral way, from deep down, from the center of her being, she brought her hands to face which had gone totally white and bloodless, and she covered her eyes with her hands.
posted by paulette @ 8:09 AM
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