12.13.04

You want a cup of coffee. A simple cup of coffee. No frou-frou, no double-plus, foamed milk, skim milk, de-caf, why bother? drink. No. A simple cuppa joe.

You go into the small crypto-Italian coffee shop in the lobby of the office building and, after checking the menu and seeing that they sell three sizes of coffee, you ask for a medium-sized cup of drip coffee. The eyes of the person the counter go wide, like a stripper in the middle of a sofa dance at last call when the lights go up. The person behind the counter asks if you want the twelve-ounce or the sixteen-ounce size. You ask which is the middle-sized cup that they sell. She says that they sell five different sizes of coffee. This is odd; there are only three sizes of drip coffee listed on the menu. However, whether there are three or five sizes, wouldn't there be am unmistakable middle-sized cup? The counter person repeats the question about which size you desire. You ask which is the middle-sized cup of the five sizes of cups that they sell. The person behind the counter stares at you as if you've just grown a magnum-sized dildo out of the middle of your forehead.

It begs the question; would this person be able to identify the size of said imaginary dildo in a police report?

You are tired of being bullied into toeing the company line, controlling your speech, and the unwarrented superiority of the counter help at this coffee shop. Yet you are polite, when asked by the manager if there is a problem. You say,
"No. I have decided that I do not want coffee today. Thank you." And you leave.

Mind you, this is the same shop that does not understand that when you ask for a biscotto you are asking for one of the vaguely anise-flavoured biscotti that are in a jar on the counter. You have explained that biscotto is the singular form of biscotti every time that the counter help corrects you, but this does not mesh with their belief of expertise in things Italian. Woe betide anyone who does know a bit about Italy and Italian things.

This same shop has a sign advertising its holiday gifts that has written on it, "From the heart, of Italy" then it lists the various holiday gifts that they sell.

(Yes, I am suffering from the sin of pridefulness, but if I don't lance the boil in this relatively safe venue, it will fester--euww. Not much worse that a festering bitch boil.)

I am not a perfect grammarian, but doesn't the comma in that sentence seem a bit off? If they were trying to indicate a pause, should another form of punctuation be used? Perhaps an em dash, or an ellipsis? Would it have been better to control the readers' speed by moving the "of Italy" part further down, or putting it in a different font? I am quite curious about the proper grammar in this situation.

Perhaps the problem is that I've been annoyed by this shop's pretension since September, and today was the last straw. If you are going to ape the Italians, first learn how to make an espresso in less than ten minutes. If you can do that, making it with la crema on top and not burnt-tasting, then I would allow your pretensions. But don't give me attitude when you have nothing with which to back it up.

Phew. Thank you for letting me vent. I appreciate it. As I said, if I can't let it out here, where can I let my inner-bitch roam?

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