the life of zooey who happens to be Bipolar 2
After a harrowing Monday, I stopped by a Starbucks which is very close to where I live today. This was unusual since of late I’ve joined a regular coffee clutch at work where we all contribute some coffee each year then drink out of the collective pot, so-to-speak. It saves money and the coffee is pretty good. Better than the corporate offering of Folgers with its acidic and crappy overall taste. (No, I am not a coffee snob, but I can’t stand the smell of that brand.)
The coffee ‘blended’ by the ‘holder-of-the-pot’ at his whim is very nice, indeed and there is rarely even dregs of the golden brown liquid left by mid-morning. Therefore, I very, very rarely visit a Starbucks where I used to go every morning. It saves some money and time, allowing me to putter about getting ready for work. But today, I craved a Flat White and, in zombie-like fashion, drove right there on auto pilot.
Inside, I recognized a manager and barista who still worked there. They’ve been staples in the morning rush. One actually called out my name while I was in line. After more than 2 year’s absence to the AM crowd, they remembered me. I was utterly surprised. How perfectly wonderful to enter into the Cheers of this century and have someone call out to me. I’m not Norm, Peterson, Cliff Clavin or Diane Chambers, just Zoey grabbing a drink and a chocolate croissant for the road. People’ knew my name’ and recognized me from long ago.
It’s surprising how regular visits such these turns into a relationship of sorts. Perhaps it’s also the eye contact, friendly greeting and small conversation as well that make people a bit more memorable. I’d say yes to that. I try NOT to be grumpy and rude to folks serving me in any capacity when out and about town. Kindness first, always.
There was were stories awhile back where a Post Office mail deliverer heard and responded to a women who had been undiscovered after an accident for 2 days. There was another where an elderly person who ordered pizza every night, stopped and a worker investigated. Both of these instances resulted in the acquaintances, who usually interacted with the women, responded. People helping people.
So strike up a conversation at a place where you frequently visit. A sandwich shop, perhaps. A coffee place or restaurant or gym or shop. These small exchanges are a reminder that there are people around us who would and often do miss us.