Coffee chats, remember them? We’re in social quicksand now
IMET someone the other day. Not that kind of some ‘one’. I met her ages ago. The fact that I’m writing about meeting someone pretty much sums up my life right now. I barely know the person, but it didn’t matter. We have children and are both alive so we’ve something in common. We are juggling work and homeschooling. Both locked into a grinding, tough routine and over those precious three minutes we both emotionally propped each other up by sharing our war stories.
Suddenly all of the advantages of working from home are turning into disadvantages.
The morning walk into work (all five minutes of it) is gone, meaning no fresh air to get the brain turbines turning. I recorded a record 890 steps the other day!
The idle chat with a colleague about people being noisy on the street, the movements of the traffic warden or talk of your favourite band growing up – all disappeared, replaced by silence or bad radio music.
The unplanned social interactions walking along the street when going for a coffee or walking home for lunch. Poof!
I used to be greeted by a piping hot coffee first thing every Monday morning, often with a bun or madeleine beside it. In return I would greet my colleague with the same on Friday mornings. It was a simple routine but one that never failed to brighten my Monday. That’s all gone.
Basically, working from home is grand if you hate people. Otherwise it sucks!
I won’t bang on about this too much because I’m very conscious of how difficult it is for 20,000 plus people across Wexford and Wicklow, which happens to be the portion of the earth I communicate with each week in these here column inches.
Yes, I know second-hand how bad it is. How difficult it is to face into another day unsure about your financial future.
I’m one of the lucky ones, but this is getting ridiculous. On my daily walks I look wistfully at the cafe windows. My love affair with coffee began in the instant age, way back in the 80s when my mother would bring me on a whim to a cafe up the road from our boutique and we’d eat our meringues with fresh cream and she’d gleefully scoop some cream onto her Nescafe.
That satisfied smile was something I wanted. Fast forward a decade and I was there, sitting in a dark hotel in Tralee, discussing the social world that was my life with friends. The place refilled your mug from a steaming hot jug for an extra 50p. Countless hours were spent sitting there, passing time, chatting about whatever randomly excited thing entered our heads.
The town would be jammers and people were always looking for other people; especially our age. Curiosity was oxygen and we craved to have our lungs filled with it.
The coffee came with cream too (if you asked) which was a key factor in our repeat business.
It wasn’t until I ventured abroad that I learned of lattes, cappuccinos, grandes etc. Starbucks was the go to place for people on SU Hill (Syracuse University Hill), and it was a place I love to frequent on my day off from working two jobs in the Upstate New York city. You’d strike up a conversation just asking what Pike Place coffee was. At the diner where I worked ‘ leaded coffee’ was served to truckers. I ran afowl of a particularly strong espresso one day on my first day working in a skyscraper. I got to know the place really well that day, buzzing around – brain on fire.
Today it’s Nespressos at home. I miss those empty afternoon chats.