Suburban Goddess

Around 9:30, it became apparent that a coffee run was necessary, so I gathered up a co-worker & snuck out the back door. When we reached the Coffee Store, Coffee Boy stood there, brow furrowed into a vicious scowl. He obviously wasn’t having a good day, which made me start to ponder what could possibly have created such a demeanor. Did he see a ray of sunshine? A cute cuddly puppy? Was the circus in town?

“Can I help you?” he mumbled without meeting my eyes. I was taken aback; no sarcasm? No witty reparté? No condescending attitude? I’d actually come to expect, and almost respect, the daily abuse. Some people are naturally miserable, but this, this was all WRONG. This misery was not of the “I’m-suffering-because-I-have-to-waste-my-time-with-these-morons” misery. This was different. This was…sullen. Like a child who’s been scolded by his parents. A deep, postal-worker kind of brooding.

I placed my order and left my card on the counter to taunt him. Maybe it would snap him out of it. But instead of the sarcastic flip towards the credit machine, he picked up the card and actually swiped it on the register. I wanted to ask him if someone had died. Maybe he buried his dog this morning. But there is a certain disrespect in asking intrusive questions, especially to someone you generally don’t like. So I quietly took my coffee and left him to his silent brooding. No smart ass comments today; although he’d probably take great glee in kicking me while I was down, I could not. There’s no point in poking roadkill with a stick. It just makes a bigger mess.