Respect the Drip Cheryl!
The weekends are always the best spent in the cafe. The traffic was always steady and manageable. Yes, there was always a little lunch rush but when isn't that the case?
Once the crowd dies down it's usually around 2 pm, the best time, only regulars come at 2 they know best. It’s quieter and there’s always a seat at the bar waiting to support one of our most valued customers. Real ones know that if you hit a barista up at the right time you can get a lot of insider knowledge on just about anything. And those barista’s know that it won’t take much for them to talk, you just can’t act like an asshole.
Today was special, we had one of our favourite customers. When we first met her she was a miserable Americano drinker who put too much cream in her coffee. She used to take her drink and waltz right outside for her scheduled smoke break often without paying or telling anyone. She used to barely speak to us without that first draw of her slim European imports. I used to watch her in morbid curiosity. Why was she so miserable? Slowly we’ve warmed her frigid Ad executive heart to become one of the best tippers in the store. Her name is Cheryl but she lets us call her Cher like the movie Clueless.
“Whose music is this?” Cher asked as she stirred her second double espresso.
“Mine,” I said with cocky confidence.
“I didn’t know you like The Beatles,” She replied as she reached for her small raw brown sugar packet.
“You didn’t know? Good. I try to hide it nowadays. Yes everyone my age is starting to get into this shit for the first time but like… so what? They all ‘discover’ The Beatles at their first hipster party and suddenly they think they understand the Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band album completely. Um no you don’t you just had a sweet acid trip at a Frat party a few weeks ago. It’s just so far from what The Beatles really were overall. It’s really annoying to anyone who has been obsessed with them since they were 6.”
“Wow, okay yeah. I understand why you keep it to yourself. Have you ever met a Harry Potter fan? They are about as annoying as you just were,” Cher rolled her eyes.
“Cheryl, are you joking? I’m a millennial. Of course, I’ve met a Harry Potter fan. I am a Beatles fan in a sea of Harry Potter fans!” I barked back.
Cher looked with a puzzled face as she turned to Jess, my counter buddy for today’s shift, “What kind of music do you like to listen to?”
“Oh gosh, What isn’t there to like?” Jess replied with a sigh.
“Tons girl! Top 40 is garbage,” I shot back as I mimicked spitting on the ground. Jess quickly copied my behaviour, we had a good back and forth, I love working with her.
“Right, none of that Tom Foolery. I guess if I had to give you a conservative answer I’d say I like indie music from the early 2000s,” She replied with a grin.
“Indie music from the 2000s? What does that even mean?” Weren’t you kids supposed to be listening to people like Britney Spears and Hilary Duff?”
“Hey!” I interrupted her. “Those two ladies are not the same! Of course, we dabbled in Girl Power Pop, we’re 90s kids. Who didn’t love a good Spice Girls jam back in the day? I know my parents were digging it.”
“Indie music from the 2000s is hard to define but there are tons of great bands and musicians from back then,” Jess added.
“Like who? It can’t be better than what we had in the 80s,” Cheryl piped back as she licked the crema from the bottom of her tiny espresso cup. You’d never know she drank watered-down milky espresso, you’d never know!
“What you had in the 80s? Please yes, that time was important for contemporary music but there’s so much more to music than just what came out in the 1980s!”
She rolled her eyes with an exaggerated scoff.
“Arcade Fire. Classic Canadian band!”
“Arctic Monkeys!” Jess seconded.
“The Strokes.”
“Arkells.”
I didn’t think it was possible but I think we made Cheryl confused. Regardless we trailed on.
“Franz Ferdinand.”
“Vampire Weekend.”
“Coldplay.”
“The Killers.”
“Oh okay, you can stop now. You got me with The Killers. I love that band so much,” Cher lowered her voice and backed down.
“The Killers? Really?” I was confused. “Are they really that popular?”
“Um yes, Sarah of course they are. Mr. Brightside is a classic.” Wait- whose side is Jess on really?
“I know it's a great song, but is it really the most recognizable band in that list we just gave? I thought everyone knew The Strokes...or Coldplay….” I trailed off as I looked out the front window.
“You know Jess I love that song so much. Can we put it on the speakers right now?” Cher asked with the doting eyes of a young naive woman. The way white women in their 40s try to get their way...am I right?
“Yes let’s do it!” Jess copied Cher’s energy in a mocking sense. Is Cher picking this up too? “Let’s change whatever crap Sarah put on this dumb playlist!”
Jess walked over to the old iPhone plugged into the speaker. She looked me directly in the eye with a grin before she switched the song and chuckled to herself.
“You just changed Childish Gambino’s 3005! That’s a soon-to-be-classic!” My knees felt weak. I had lost this battle.
Cher looked at me confused once more.
“Who?”
“Oh yeah Cher, show me those moves!”
It was really happening. My coworker Jess was blasting The Killers in our cafe and our regular Cher was enthusiastically chair dancing alongside her. I couldn’t believe it, it was Saturday afternoon in a cafe but you’d think it was a tween slumber party. Thank god there is only one guy on a laptop sitting in the back. Does he have headphones on? Oh yes, it looks like it.
“Okay, Jess turn it down! I know Mr. Brightside is a classic. I will admit it now. Are you happy?” I surrendered with my head down.
“Indubitably,” She smiled and nodded slightly as she turned down the music.
“Well, I love it. That Brandon Flowers boy. He’s a cutie,” Cher smiled to herself.
“Okay, you’re really dating yourself by calling him a boy and a cutie in the same sentence. He’s 2000s hot.” I cut back.
“2000s hot? What does that even mean?” Jess asked with a chuckle. Is that even a thing?”
“Yeah, of course it’s a thing. Google it.” They looked at me blankly. “I don’t know he just has that vibe.”
“The forever a little anorexic but cute in skinny jeans indie boy who probably has a Myspace and knows cool underground shows in New York on a Friday night, yeah,” Jess replied sarcastically. “I know what you mean.”
“Exactly,” I gullibly believed her.
“Like Max Kerman,” Jess added.
Cher and I made eye contact briefly.
“...Max Kerman?” We responded.
“Yeah, Max Kerman. You know that great Canadian band you hear on the radio. The band you mentioned in your list earlier of great indie bands from the 2000s. He’s the lead singer for Arkells. You seriously don’t know that Sarah?” She looked back at me with slight disappointment.
I too was disappointed.
“Damn, I should have gotten that.”
“Yeah, you should have.”
“Well, missy, what’s your point about Max Kerman?” I said with a slight edge. Did we go from flirting to fighting? She can’t play with me like that, I don’t even know if I’m gay!
“He’s 2000s indie boy hot.”
“I mean he is now, I had no idea who he was in 2008 when Jackson Square came out and I was in the tenth grade. He was just the dude from the group that gave me the John Lennon song.”
“Oh my god, you really do have a weird obsession with The Beatles,” Cher introjected with her hand over her chest. “Anyways, it was lovely chatting but can I settle my tab now girls?”
“Oh yeah,” I snapped back into being a part-time barista. “Just the two double espressos then?”
“The espressos as well as one of those blueberry muffins. Can you wrap it up for me in one of those cute boxes you guys have?”
“Of course,” I rushed and wrapped up her gluten-free treat. “Is this for you at the office?”
“There’s a guy who works the front desk, great ass. He...just... loves blueberry muffins. And I just love… to please him.” She finished with a smile of ecstasy.
“Oh,” She’s never been that blunt before. “Well, you have fun with that. Clearly, that shouldn’t be too hard.” I pierced my eyes slightly. I know I haven’t been to a Catholic school in a long time but talking about sex can still be so uncomfortable for me, especially with grown-ups.
“What,” She was puzzled by what I said.
“Enjoy your blueberry muffin, Cheryl!” Jess shouted with her arm raised to a wave. “Have a good day we’ll see you soon!”
“See you later girls,” She winked as she slipped on her black Tom Ford sunglasses and headed out the door.
