Slow Morning

As usual, the lineup in the coffee shop is long and patience-trying. A man needs a large shot of grace to keep his cool in this situation. The guy behind me isn’t keeping his cool. I can hear him pacing and shifting and muttering under his breath. I want to turn around and say, “Chill out, man. The day is young and the girl behind the counter is cute. That should be enough for you right now.” I’m sure my words wouldn’t faze the guy. He speaks, to no one in particular. “What the hell is going on here? Are they short staffed or what? We shouldn’t be standing here this long.” He’s probably right, but finding people who’ll work for 8 bucks an hour or less is pretty tough in this province. Like I say, a guy needs to grow some patience to cope in these times. I tune him out and don’t respond. After waiting for no more than five minutes he leaves in a huff and storms off in his pickup, likely on his way to another coffee shop where he will wait longer. Now all I can hear is the soft shuffle of more genial morning patrons. The perk of 7:00am coffee. The unmistakable sound of donuts being bagged. A slow morning this one, and I’m enjoying it.