So I went there again today. I couldn’t face the free sugar, the free newsprint, the pressure to carry a card and therefore get a free sandwich once a month or feel bad for not getting a free sandwich, and to win a trip to new York or feel bad for not winning a free trip to new York*, so I went to the other place. The place that is a cover for illegal activity. A key difference about the new place is that it’s on the other side of the road. This means it’s on the way into town, as opposed to being on the way out of town and therefore on the way to the city. The type of people stopping on the way to town, coming from the country, or another smaller town, are a different type of person to the ones on their way from town. I am probably being a city working snob, but I don’t think town workers have the same expectations, they just want cheap drinkable hot liquid, without bells and whistles and free donuts, with marigold gloves in easy reach while they wait for the machine to spew the black sanity saver, with a hole in the wall (with a mysterious pipe [like something maybe a top trained drug running hamster might use] visible within the hole) with a strange unlabelled red button beside it (if you have to ask you better not press it). Town workers want a cashier who will have the five cent change warming in their hand so that when you put down your 2 euro** in their palm, you pick up the five cent in the same efficient movement, they want to be impressed by the mind reading magic of the lady with the short hair whose body heat has gone into the piece of metal now in your pocket, they don’t carry wallets (ok I’ve no way of knowing whether they carry wallets – although the only co-customer I saw did drop his coinage from his pockets all over the forecourt). They don’t expect the coffee lids to fit without major re-engineering.
*my computer has decided to capitalise the York and not the new – it’s not me I swear.
** yes, city readers, you read right. 2 euro and you get change!