Zen Mamma Finger-Paints

It was the middle of the big morning rush. It happens just before 9:00 am every weekday at our coffee shop. By rush, I mean 20-30 people in line to the door. They’re all on their way to work and have the last minute coffee stop off. We also have a hotel nearby so we get a mix of people in with their luggage getting their coffee before heading to the airport. In case you were wondering, yes, the luggage gets tripped over.

If you can picture a busy coffee shop with a line to the door, you can likely imagine a single overabundant thing: noise. There’s the grinding of the coffee beans before brewing each pot. There’s the shhhhhhwwwwwshhhhhh of the coffee steaming. Then, there’s the callbacks. The cash register operator calling out the order and the barista behind the bar calling it back so everyone knows the order is being attended to appropriately. There are conversations between people in line and the conversations of the people waiting for their drink at the bar. There is the music pumping overhead, and several timers going off to remind baristas to make new coffee, to change the milk, and of course an occasional phone ring.

In addition to all that noise, the two cash registers at our coffee shop are about two feet apart so I hear both sets of customers and the other barista as well.

In this noisy setting, a woman with her two children was next in line and I was covering the register. I asked if I could help her. I immediately realized I was attempting to speak to one of those parents that never raise the voice; the kind of parent that wants no stress or anxiety to enter into the home and disrupt the soothing meditative setting of the oh-so-quiet home. Ohhhhhhhmmmmm.

She said something and I could not hear her. So I said, “Excuse me?” as I leaned in. She repeated herself. I still couldn’t hear. So, I leaned over the counter and said, “What? I can’t hear you.”

She repeated it again, barely above a whisper. I got nothing. I thought I was getting punk’d. I tried to be as courteous as possible given the situation, and leaned in and repeated, “Ma’am, I can’t hear you. I’d like to take your order but I can’t hear you. Is there any way you could speak up or at the least lean forward?” With one kid on her hip and the other fastened into the stroller, she certainly could have leaned in a bit if she didn’t want to strain those vocal chords.

She didn’t. grrrr. So, I started listing things we have, starting with the most popular. After the third item in my list she nodded her head. I rang the coffee and the fruit cup out and finished the transaction as quickly as possible.

Now, before you think I’m heartless and conjure up all the what-if situations...I know someone that has had vocal cord surgery and even the day after her surgery, she was louder than this person. I’ve also lost my voice myself and know that I’d have leaned forward and would have been louder. And yes, I could have signed with her.

About 20 minutes later I went out to check the milk station. She had allowed her kids to finger-paint with the fruit cup. Smeared fruit all over the wall. Broken pieces of fruit literally stuck to the wall and on the ground.

She won’t raise her voice and clearly this Zen Mamma Finger-Paint can’t say no either. But, she fosters creativity through finger-painting with fruit at the local coffee shop… Oooohhhhmmmmm.


Be sure to tip your baristas, and bye for now.
Currently Caffeinated, Dee