Finding Napoleon
Recently I was in New York getting ideas for a coffee shop we’re putting together in Atlanta and my partner and I ran into this odd Vegan breakfast place near 9th and Houston near Chelsea’s Market in the meat packing district. The odd little fellow behind the counter may or may not have cared that we were leering at his menu, trying to decide what on earth we were going to eat. It was 7am and I looked around to see the place was filling up …with other odd little fellows and fellettes staring at the chalkboard menu with the same blank expression as the don’t-give-a-crap-barista. Once I started paying attention, I thought, “why is it so important to give a crap about someone giving a crap about me and my inability to make a decision?”
In the movie, Gorillas in the Mist, Anthony Hopkins has an “aha” moment when he tries to shield himself from the rain with a big banana leaf while sitting with a band of gorillas in the wild (“band” is the correct term for a group of gorillas…I just looked it up…sorry to insult you if you already knew that…I didn’t). As he looks around at the other gorillas, they had not altered their behavior during the transition from sunshine to rain. They continued picking bugs off one another as if it wasn’t raining. He catches on and puts the banana leaf away. Sure he gets wet, but so what. What’s so great about staying dry?
I’ve been back to that odd place with the odd people many times since. Probably because no one is really trying too hard. In fact, when I go there I have license to be an odd fellow myself, and I grin when I see a newbie frowning at the menu and scowling at the barista. There was a neat little sign above the cashier that read, “Mornin’ Pretty”. It’s a neighborhood place not a company vying for market share. I’ve also engaged the barista a few times for help with the menu. He’s 100% himself, sincere, and he cares for me about as much as someone who doesn’t know me should care for me. He’s just doing his job. He has to work to pay the bills like the rest of us. He’s not impolite or rude. He’s just not there to make friends…or enemies. So he does his job and recommends the right thing…just by sizing me up and asking a couple of questions in stunted (efficient) English. “…you like oatmeal?” *pause…I nod, brow furrowed like ‘really dude?…you’re going to sell me freakin’ Oatmeal? “…try the porridge…it’s better for you because the bran is still on it. I can put some fruit in it?” I nod, he slaps it together, tosses it on the counter… “want some coffee?”….I nod… “fourninetyeight”. Dang if it isn’t the most satisfying breakfast I’ve had in years, and it’s probably because of the service as much as the porridge. If more servers could pull off the Napoleon Dynamite ‘tude and just stick to the facts, we’d all probably stop whining when we don’t get our butts kissed by a server or cashier.
