Tag: people watching

Twosda’s Wandering Thoughts

It’s an oddity. Today, the coffee shop is filled with men.

Three regulars are among the dozen men. We regulars do our regular things with computers, eyes intense and intent on screens, fingers doing a keyboard dance, sometimes shifting a mouse tango.

The rest are pairs of men. Male couples. They’re all in deep and low-key conversations. Youngest looking are some twenty somethings. Most have ages hovering in the upper thirties to low sixties. I’m too far from any to overhear conversations. There’s little laughter among them. These are serious topics at hand.

Two by two, the meetings are wrapped up. The participants depart. Soon, it’s just me and one other regular, busy with our computers. A small break ensues. Quiets drapes the business. New people arrive. New orders are given. It’s a mix of males and females.

Coffee shop life resumes its normal posturing.

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Saturda’s Wandering Thoughts

I’m addicted to people watching. People fascinate me. The way they move, talk, walk. Too often I only know their surface. So, I love it when they share me.

Today, one of my favorite baristas informed me that Monday is her final day. That surprised me; she’s been here for a while and went through the training to become a Starbucks manager. Now she’s moving on to the Medford Police Department as a community liaison officer.

Since she engaged me and made the revelation, I pecked at her with questions. She willingly volunteered that her family is part of the law enforcement community. Mom is a homicide detective with twenty-seven years of experience. Dad is the chief of police. Like, wow. Her ultimate goal is to be a forensic psychology. She’s in a master’s program to that end, although it is an online course. She ultimately wants to help people traumatized by crime and testify as an expert witness.

I’ll miss her, yes, but it’s wonderful to learn more about people and witness them reaching for their dreams.

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Sunda’s Wandering Thoughts

I watched a woman enter the coffee shop. She’s familiar to me as a semi-regular. Like me, in her late sixties, I think, she walks with direct, no-nonsense style. Her hair is short but neat, and her clothing matches that no-nonsense, low maintenance image. I wonder if that’s how she is — no nonsense, direct, practical. Or is this a facade? Does she walk like that because that’s how she wants to be, and not how she is?

Fun to imagine such a character like that. Reminds me of friends I’ve had. Intelligent and capable in one arena, they were disasters in other areas of their life. Yet others were methodical, practical, and organized in all facets of life.

Memory of a co-worker’s comment to me once springs up: “Your level of organization must drive your wife nuts.” They said that while I was organizing software packages.

No, my wife has never commented on it. But when I put something away, I can tell you exactly where it is. Which, as I think about it, is exactly like both Mom and Dad.

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Wednesday’s Wandering Thoughts

I enjoy being in the coffee shop and witnessing people encountering one another. They’re often so pleased, excited, or happy to meet. Short hugs are exchanged, and there’s often smiles and laughter.

Just a tonic for my spirits when I’m exposed to such joy.

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Wednesday’s Wandering Thoughts

It’s a recurring theme for me. I see old people and wonder what they were like when they were young, and I look at young people and wonder, what will they be like when they’re old.

Like her, in the floppy sun hat, green pants, and multiple pastels scarves, short grey blonde hair and wire-rimmed round gold glasses. When did she become that person?

Or take her for example, the blonde early tweener with blue hair and fringe bangs, dressed all in black, with a long-sleeved shirt and tight shorts, white crew socks, and white canvas shoes. She’s a gregarious presence in her small knot of companions. What will she be like in the future?

Weird thing: thirty-five customers by my count in the coffee shop. Four of us are male. Two of the men are working on computers. It looks like the women are all socializing.

Contemplating the dynamics and speculating about people is an attractive way of engaging my mind as I sip coffee and the muse comes to write.

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Tuesday’s Wandering Thoughts

A young middle-aged woman is at a table with a middle middle-aged man. That’s how they appear to be experienced but amateur eye. Both are attractive. She’s in light grey yoga pants and he’s in khaki hiking shorts. He’s tall, with graying curly hair, while her brunette hair sweeps away from her face and lightly lands on her shoulders. The two are so average white people of the Pacific Northwest. I notice them in the same way as I note others in the coffee shop.

But then, what makes her memorable, after they disposed of their coffee cups at the busing station, she methodically moves through the coffee shop, straightening up the chairs. He goes over and stands by the door, waiting for her to finish. She joins him and they depart, leaving the tidy tables and chairs behind.

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Wednesday’s Wandering Thoughts

When I returned from the coffee shop writing session yesterday, my wife related a story she’d read.

A man began a new habit of going to the coffee shop every Saturday morning. He enjoyed the atmosphere and would surf the net on his phone and text friends while nursing a coffee drink and nibbling a pastry. After a few weeks of this, he discovered he and the owner had once been friends. Then, life happened. This disconnected but now reconnected in a casual way.

One day the guy received an email from the coffee shop owner. The owner said that the barista complained that the man was ogling her on Saturday mornings and that the owner was going to have to bar him. The man refuted what was happening. Through a back and forth series, he convinced the owner that wasn’t the case.

Meanwhile, the barista was moved off Saturday morning to another schedule. Therefore, the owner said, the man would be welcomed back.

Fuck you, the man wrote back.

I wholly understood and agreed. That place would never be the same for him, and other coffee shops would probably be tainted for him as well.

Sad that it came to that. Made me wonder, as I sit in the coffee shop and people watch, what did that barista think she saw?

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Tuesday’s Wandering Thoughts

I’ve been writing. Now I pull my head out of the morass of story and look around.

The burst of activity which took over the coffee shop like a late spring storm has faded. Regulars have come in. Parked at tables as I’ve done, they pursue their personal agendas in a public forum.

One of them is a woman. I have no idea what she’s doing. I wonder, but, shrug. I try to give everyone the same privacy I seek.

Today, though, I see that her toenails are bright mango. They match her shirt.

I haven’t noticed these things before but now I’m thinking, did she select a shirt and paint her toenails to match it, as is this a coincidence?

Now, I know, I’ll need to see her again and make a note to look for her toenails. Yes, it seems weird to me, too.

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Friday’s Wandering Thoughts

Sitting in the coffee shop, I sometimes take a break to pay attention to the people waiting for their coffee. Some are jittery, constant movement. Like they’ve already ingested a significant amount of caffeine, buzzy as little kids on a sugar high.

Then we have the impatient customer. Frequently tapping a foot, normally with hands in pockets or arms crossed, they look like they’re sighing over the unfairness of having to wait so darn long for their drink. Many of these will turn to their cell for comfort, chatting, texting, reading stuff, watching videos.

Others waiting for coffee assume a cool Steve McQueen demeanor, leaning back with mild indifference. The coffee will come and nothing they do will hurry it, so why bother? It’s not surprising to see some of them casually check cell phones, oozing as they do.

Fourth are those with the coffee stare. Stiff as a bronze statue, usually with their arms crossed, they posture right up against the counter’s edge, eyes opened wide, unblinking, waiting for their order. As drinks are made, you can almost hear their neurons shouting, “Is that mine? Is that mine?”

Finally, we have the laissez coffee set. Ordering, they find a table or sit until their order is called out.

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Saturday’s Wandering Thoughts

They were a couple, with those socks. Skin-tight, displaying every angle and curve of their ankles and feet — they both wore sandals on this warmish winter day — his socks were as golden as a Trump Towers sign, while hers were hot pink. Though he wore loose trousers and she wore capris, both garmets displayed a good six inches of their interesting socks.

They raised some questions, they did.

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