Is it any More black is your cup?
I was almost done making his drink. It wasn’t too complicated of an order. He just wanted a dense homogenous milk cappuccino. Not too hard. I’m really good at aerating with the steaming wand.
It was a typical Wednesday afternoon at my coffee shop. Not too many people but a few laptop bros and a retired couple reading separate newspapers towards the back. I love these shifts. They can be so peaceful and so rewarding. My boss plays great music, usually lots of vintage classics. Today’s feature Sly and the Family Stone, and you know what I have no complaints.
Sometimes I’m right and I can be wrong
My own beliefs are in my song
The butcher, the banker, the drummer and then
Makes no difference what group I’m in
I am everyday people, yeah, yeah
I scooped out the foam that gathered in the small stainless-steel pitcher and gently placed it in his paper cup. Sometimes these babies take a few gallons of wasted milk.
“So, what brings you to Liberty Village today sir?” Am I supposed to talk to him? This is really awkward. He just keeps staring at me. Might as well say something.
“Yeah I had to come down for a doctor’s appointment at Toronto Western Hospital. Had to make a pit stop in this hood because it’s my old stomping grounds. It’s come a long way since then,” He chuckled to himself as he paced in the café.
“Oh, I’m sure you would know more than me. I’m only working this job to pay for school,” I submissively replied.
“I live in Scarborough now,” He cut me off. “I don’t know how you stand it down here it’s too busy and crowded.”
I laughed as I looked down at my toes. “Oh yes! I know what you mean, I’m from Etobicoke myself so I get how different the pace is down here.”
“Yeah, my neighbourhood is pretty quiet, and I really like that. But it’s really changed where I live since so many blacks moved in.”
Shhh!!!! The ceramic wand let out a gust of noise as my hand jerked the lever down towards the ground abruptly. What did he just say?
“Oh, I mean, I don’t think I can really speak to that…” I strained my voice as I replied. What am I supposed to say? This is not the time, I’m at work.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s really not a bad thing that they moved in. They’re not as loud as we expected so that’s good.”
I stood there with my mouth wide open. Doesn’t he realize what he is saying? I moved my head slightly towards my co-worker, my black female co-worker who up until that point had been participating in the conversation. The expression on her face spoke a thousand words. She didn’t say anything, she looked heartbroken. We both took a moment to listen to Sly Stone sing over the speakers.
I am no better and neither are you
We are the same whatever we do
You love me, you hate me, you know me and then
You can’t figure out the bag I’m in
I am everyday people, yeah, yeah
As I scooped out the last ounce of foam, I callously threw the pasteurized liquid onto the top of his drink before I handed it off, “Well, it’s good thing the whole café knows how you feel about it. Enjoy your artery clogging crack in a cup asshole.”
He looked at me puzzled before he chuckled as he reached down for his drink and brought it to the condiment stand. The whole café was silent as he endlessly poured sugar into his cup before he put a red plastic lid on his drink and walked out the front door. We all sat in silence for a few minutes after he left.
I didn’t know it was that easy.
