Monday, 11 February 2013

Dropping our iPhones, iPods & iQs

So, it's 7:40 at night and I'm sitting in a small independent coffee shop, sipping on a 24oz oh-so-lovely Soy Chai Latte, which, by the way, does not have a bitter taste, despite the $6 price . . . for today it was free, (I had a coupon).

As I sit with my iPod and laptop, my favorite tunes are being drowned out by the overwhelmingly loud drum of female voices.The small cafe is packed tighter than my size ten thighs in these size six jeans. A quick head count shows fifteen women, all between the ages of thirty-five to fifty, divided into three groups with one lone ranger sitting by the window . . . that would be me. 

One group is having a book club meeting, but clearly none of them have read the book as they're discussing much, but nothing to do with literature.

The other table has binders open and appear to be a study group, although I can't imagine what such a mixed menagerie of peri-menopausal women could be studying.
And right next to me, a table of three who, if I were to assume by their appearance, must have met at a gym and are now each enjoying their fat-free, sugar-free, caffeine-free lattes, (or as they're called here, 'Why Bothers'). Their table also lacks muffins, cookies, brownies . . . or body fat. I immediately dislike them.
Behind me, the barrista is banging around, steaming and doing her thing and I wonder to myself, 'How did we get here?'
Thirty years ago, women my age would have been at home drinking their own coffee, at a friend's playing bridge, or perhaps in front of a tv doing the grape-vine with Jane Fonda. Now we spend $6 to sit in a noisy coffee house and fight to hear and be heard over others.
A new group comes in, and I watch, amazed. They order, then balancing their ridiculously over-priced drinks, in some comfortable, familiar ritual, drop their iPhones, iPods, and iQs on the table. As a generation, we've been duped. We buy things, that we really don't need or can afford, to impress people that-if we were being truly honest-we really don't like. How can we like each other when we're all putting on masks and pretending? Living lifestyles none of us can justifiably afford?
Vowing to get real with myself and my financial affairs, I'm suddenly aware that this may be my last coffee outing for a awhile. Tilting my head back, I am sure to get every last ounce of my oh-so-lovely Soy Chai Latte. Dropping all decorum, I use my finger to clean the foam off the sides too. Normally I wouldn't be so uncouth, but hey, what the heck, I won't see any of these women in here again. Besides, I was kind of hoping the table of skinny chicks would envy me for a change . . .  
(Wrote this back in March, 2010 but thought I would share.)
photo compliments of <a href="">Cup Of Coffee</a> by Petr Kratochvil 

1 comment:

  1. OK So I am not being creepy leaving my own comment, but several of you have told me that the comment box wasn't working.
    I've tweaked it . . . I think perhaps MAYBE I fixed it?
    If so I am giving up my day job. OK, maybe not so much, but I will at least reward my brilliance with a latte. For $6. :)