A Simple Cup of Coffee
Posted: Thursday, November 20, 2008
by Michael Ramzy
delusionthread.com
I decided to get a quick cup of coffee while getting my oil changed, so I ventured into the mall next door. I walked in and noticed all of the stores selling all of their stuff with all of their salespeople probably tired of selling and giving their customers that look when I found myself in front of a coffee shop.
There was a large sign on the window with Beans written in italics and underneath was this in smaller, very simple lettering:
I walked in and saw large drums of coffee beans around the perimeter of the store. In the middle were a couple of small tables with chairs. The counter was at the far end, and above the counter was a giant colorful blackboard with all of the different coffees served.
The place smelled wonderful, it was empty of customers, and I felt like this would be a perfect beginning to what would hopefully be a normal day.
I walked up to the counter and glanced at a small bell which had a sign next to it which read this:
RING BELL FOR SERVICE I then looked up at the board and the names of the different coffees were so strange I couldn't make up my mind. There were names I knew, like Hazelnut and Amaretto, but then there were names like Colombian Weed (which I don't think was what it sounded like, although you know those crazy Colombians), German Goosestep and a really wild one called Himalayan Jack Rabbit.
I finally decided on just a plain old cup of coffee, a no-frills cup. I nodded my head and dinged the bell.
A young woman, a girl really, came bounding out of the back and looked at me with wild eyes. She wore a halter top and blue jeans and her nametag strangely read Ef. "Don't ring this bell, dammit." She cupped her hand over the bell to prevent me from ringing it again.
"Um, sorry," I said, looking at her wild eyes. "The sign said -"
"I know what the stupid sign says," she said, frowning at me. She offered nothing else, just crossed her arms and stood there looking at me. She had that look, of course. The salesperson look. Geez, all I did was ring a bell.
"Okay," I said, smiling my best I'm really a nice guy, truly smile. "How about a cup of coffee?"
"All right," she said, turning around. She plucked a cup out of the rack beneath the blackboard and asked over her shoulder, "what kind?"
On the back of her neck was this giant tattoo, which rendered me speechless for a moment. In giant letters it read MITCH. It was directly on the back of her neck, too.
"Hello, anyone there?" she asked, turning around. She noticed my wide-eyed look. "What's the problem?"
"No problem," I said quickly. "I don't know what kind."
"What kind of problem or what kind of coffee?"
"No problem," I said again, smiling at her quick wit. "I meant the kind of coffee."
"Well?" she asked suddenly, frowning again. At the rate the frowns were coming, this woman would have the face of leather by the time she turned twenty. "What do you mean you don't know what kind of coffee?"
"I mean I only want -"
"Haven't you even looked at the board?" she asked then, her voice rising slightly. Why she was getting mad at me I had no idea.
"Well, yeah, but I -"
"We have over a hundred kinds of coffee listed here, and you say you can't decide?" She of course gave me that look while she was talking.
"Himalayan Jack Rabbit," I said immediately. Geez.
"That's better," she said, turning and pouring a cup from the urn on the far right. This urn had a rabbit lying on its back, which was odd considering the name of the coffee. I filed this information away in the very back of my mind for future retrieval.
Which of course meant I immediately forgot about it.
"By the way," I said, taking the coffee from her and giving her some bills. "That's weird." I nodded to her nametag.
"It's my name," she said, actually being nice. She saw the look I gave her. "Really, it's my name. Ef."
"Not elf?"
"No. Ef."
"Not Steph?"
"No."
"Not Seth?" Seth was a boy's name, but what the hell, I gave it a shot.
"No."
"What's it stand for, then?" I asked. I had to ask.
"Well, my mother named me for my father."
" His name was Ef?"
"No, she named me for what he said when he found out she was pregnant with me."
"Oh," I said. "Sure." I sipped some of the coffee and immediately my head started to swim. My left leg started vibrating strangely. "What did he say?"
"You know," she said, dropping her voice. "The f-word."
"Excuse me?"
"He actually said that, when Mom told him she was pregnant. So since he was a shit anyway she decided to get back at him and name me Ef."
"That's getting back at him all right," I said, my voice sounding a little higher than normal. This coffee was something else, I thought, taking another sip. I suddenly wanted a salad, or something with lettuce and carrots in it. I also was thinking about running home. Along the chicken wire, of course.
She shrugged, watching me drink my coffee. She seemed amazed that I showed no outward signs. Boy, was she fooled.
"She thought so," she said.
"I see."
"So, obviously I couldn't walk around with a name like that, so Mom shortened it to Ef. I like it. Kinda different."
"Yeah," I said, sipping more coffee. "Sure is." I finished my cup and asked for a refill. The very back of my mind, where the image of the rabbit laying on his back was filed away, was nowhere near the front of my mind, which thought I would pass out from the sound of my blood running through my veins. I could actually hear it, too. This was truly some fantastic coffee.
"Do your friends call you Ef or do they call you . . . you know."
"Oh, everyone calls me Ef."
"Even Mitch?" I asked, alluding to the tattoo on her neck.
"Who?"
"Mitch."
"I don't know any Mitch," she said, crossing her arms.
"He's on your neck," I said. "The name is, I mean."
"I don't know any Mitch," she repeated.
She looked at me as though I was speaking Swahili.
I simply nodded and drained my coffee. Before I left, I bought ten pounds of the stuff.
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Top-level comments on this article: (1 total)This story is hilarious. I don't know if this is a true experience or fiction; either way it was interesting.Fiction for the most part, based on the first time I entered a Starbucks and was amazed at all of the different coffees. Back then, plain old coffee wasn't listed, you had to ask for it - almost as if they had to make it special.Thanks for the comment, and keep reading and writing.
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