Coffee for One, at the Alcove Table - Part 5 | Sunday Observer
Coffee Shop stories…

Coffee for One, at the Alcove Table - Part 5

18 April, 2021

[Continued from last week]

It is pathetic how he sits there by himself at the alcove table. Having had a grand total of three dates over four years. Pathetic! Having his solo coffee time occupying the alcove table meant to be a cosy nook for two.

I actually get plenty of reservation queries from customers asking if the alcove table is available while his solo coffeeing is going on, and I have to deny them the reservation of course, because solo romancer and his books and notebooks are having coffee at the alcove table. Maybe he’s planning and plotting his next date at the alcove table? Like right now.

Him and his dark mocha coffee inspiration, writing poems in the notebooks, stealing lines from the fiction and poetry books, and hoping for another slim fair beauty to come and sit with him and sip coffee and share giggles and laughs and then walk out hand in hand to a happy future together.

Probably dreaming of that right now while not letting a couple come here and occupy the alcove table. And we’d get better business from that table too if this fool wasn’t here so often taking up that space meant for two, by himself! He knows my name. Yes he knows it. He knows it for sure after all these years. But he has to take a quick glance at my employee tag each time he wants to speak to me by name. Doesn’t do it often though. But every once in a blue moon when he wants to say my name when asking for something, he has to glance at my employee tag, and then say it. Can’t remember me by name of course, to show he is just so important and that he has too much on his mind to actually remember my name. Big ego and subtle snobbery is what it is.

It would be actually nice if he cared to ask my name. I mean, if he has to pretend to not know my name, not be able to remember it, how about asking it? I know it’s on my employee name tag clearly for all to see...but! I’m saying it would be nice to be asked what my name is. To be able to say my name and actually feel like I was important enough to be asked my name, and imagine that he might even try to remember it.

Employee name tags are there after all to make sure that they don’t have to bother to remember your name. Just look at the tag pinned above the breast and that’s me.

No need for a question and answer. Even though logically someone would say it seems just utterly stupid that I should want a customer to ask me my name since I’m wearing my employee name tag, I think it would still be nice. It’s always nice when someone asks your name. That means they actually care to hear your name being said to them from your own voice. Just ask me my name you swollen headed idiot. Would it kill you to ask just once? I’ve actually got this idea to make his lonesome space more cheerful. Came to my head just now. Since he’s into the company of the fair and white kind. I’ll place a large glass tumbler of icy cold white milk with a big head of whipped cream on the table for him and say ‘on the house’. He’s after all one of our most regular customers.

The boss wouldn’t make an issue of it. No it’s not meant to be a large hearted thing. I mean it as a mocking gesture, since he is at the alcove table without a fair girl’s company. No ‘whiteness’ sharing his table.

Wait, maybe the better thing to do is to place it on the empty chair at the table! Yes, much, much better. That will really drive in the point that he is taking up a space meant for lovers by himself. His single dateless self. So this way at least the empty seat would be occupied. By a tall cool whitey white beauty. How about that? Should really drive in the point through his thick head that he really is pathetic sitting there by himself.

Wait, wait, wait. No, the really best thing to do even more than putting the white creamy drink on the chair would be this...simply pour it over his head. Yes. A large icy cold white chocolate latte with extra whipped cream poured over his head to flow down his neck and face, and wet his shirt. A whitey white extra white milky white sweet beauty literally all over him! Ha! Ha! Ha! It is quite appealing actually now when I give it more thought.

Maybe that will get him to ask me my name? Yes, that should for sure. He’ll ask me my name to complain to the boss, won’t he? I mean he has to. At least after being treated like that he has to want to know my full name right? Not just the first name printed on my employee name tag. The one he has to look at every time when he condescends to utter my name on those special moments and ask something like if we have profiteroles or blueberry muffins and if I could get him one!

That nice smiling serving girl who goes ‘sir’ to him, is not the one whose name he wants to know after I drench his big university graduated head with an extra milky white chocolate latte! Oh no! He will want to know who this woman was who did that to him! And that means I’m not just the single name on the employee name tag pinned over my left breast.

Hell no! I’m a fully fledged person with a complete name to him at that point! Maybe that is what I ought to do? Not just right now. No, just right now. But work towards it. First get myself some better career prospects lined up, and soon, and then drench this moron with a mega large extra milky super frothy chilled to the max white chocolate latte to soak his bloated head and his fancy writing and all! Yes, that’s the way to go. Even if he never cares for my number he’ll know and remember my name after that. Love me or hate me, either way you won’t forget me!

[The End of Coffee for One, at the Alcove Table. The Coffee Shop Stories serial is hereby concluded.]