August 31, 2009
Cup-A-Joe 6:28 PM
Sitting facing the counter, door to the left, enters a Caucasian man in a pink shirt, messenger bag to his side and hair spiked. He moves to the counter as another exits, striped shirt, hat, carrying messenger bag.
A Caucasian women, mid 30's sits to my left in black. A Caucasian man in jeans, water bottle in hand, meets a group of guys across the way in the smoking room. He wanders around the table, pulls a chair, puts the chair back and walks back to the table.
A Caucasian man in jeans and an orange shirt walks in, paper cup in his left hand, a gentle wave with his right, no higher than his shoulder, and moves to the counter. He hands the cup to the employee and requests a refill. Moments later he is handed back his cup and begins to interact with the condiments; gently sprinkling powder into his drink then adds a liquid from a older white kettle sitting on the counter.
A Caucasian woman with short brown hair, long legs, black shirt with small stripes and dark jeans rolled to just above the ankle enters the shop. smiling ear to ear, and heads straight to the register. Carrying a sparkly green purse, she pays and moves to her right. Through her dark framed glasses, she glances around the room.
A caucasian man with red hair and beard wearing a bright colored book bag on one shoulder orders a coffee, or a refill and moves into the smoking room.
The table with the Caucasian man in orange breaks up. Two or maybe three stay behind.
Black striped shirt leaves quickly, opening the door with one hand and holding her beverage in the other.
I am sitting at the front of the coffee shop to the right as you walk in. The only person between myself and the glass front of the shop is the Caucasian woman in black.
Another Caucasian man leaves the table with the man in orange, it is clear now that two men are left. One drinks his beverage from a mug, similar to so many others. It seems to be part of the service.
The wall behind the counter is covered in older looking coffee machines, backed by a yellow wall with red accents on the jams of the windows and doorways.
Another caucasian man walks in, he is returning, cup in hand he checks the stack of papers and moves deeper, out of sight into the smoking room.
A Caucasian bearded man wearing a plaid shirt, jeans and glasses appears from within the smoking room and addresses the table with the man in orange. Placing his left hand in his pocket and waving with the other, he moves slowly towards the shop entrance and leaves as two ladies walk in. They are both wearing vans. One is African-American and wearing an AC/DC t-shirt and the other, Caucasian, has a pony tail.
A Caucasian man wearing a ball cap, black sides and back with a white front walks in and around into the smoking room, seemingly wandering, he moves behind the counter and addresses an employee and disappears through a doorway into the back.
Three people wait at the counter for their purchases. The Caucasian lady with a ponytail is wearing glasses and standing to the right of the African-American lady in an AC/DC t-shirt. The Caucasian lady farthest to the right is wearing gray sweat pants with the words “UNC Pembroke” printed down the left leg. As she slowly moves away from the counter, beverage in hand, she turns toward the smoking room, waving at the table with the man in orange.
An young Caucasian female employee comes from behind the counter, turns into the smoking room, disappears and returns with her hands full of mugs.
An older Caucasian man in glasses, collared shirt and slacks, briefcase in his left hand approaches the counter, orders, receives his purchase faster than others and disappears into the smoking room.
A Caucasian gentleman sitting at the table with the man in orange lights up a cigarette and looks directly at me. Taking drags intermittently, looking at me and looking into a book he has placed on the table in front of him.
The Caucasian lady in black who was to my left appears out of the smoking room with a smile on her face and returns to her seat and begins to type on her computer.
To my right a young Caucasian lady writes quickly in her notebook, to her left two caucasian woman discuss what seems to be schoolwork; "...ratio, ...active, ....passive, ...generic" are words I can hear. The lady sitting with her back to the counter has brown hair, wears a gray sweatshirt and jeans and has her hair in a pony tail.
A young bald Caucasian man walks in, professionally dressed with a tucked in oxford and khakis, and begins to joke with a Caucasian female employee behind the counter. I can barely hear her as she says to him, "I was kidding.” He seems to place his order and proceeds to the right to wait. Pulling out his cellphone he stares at it for several moments and begins to touch the screen. He stops and interacts with the now two Caucasian ladies behind the counter, they laugh some more.
Simultaneously, a Caucasian man with several tattoos, wearing a wide headband with short hair receives his beverage in a paper cup, adds a few things to it, caps it and moves into the smoking room.
A Caucasian man walks in wearing a short-sleeve button-up, dark jeans, black vans with white bottoms, thick dark framed glasses and a messenger bag to his right places an order using a credit card.
All the employees appear casually dressed; jeans, t-shirts, hats on the men and hair bands on the women. They greet everyone with a friendly tone and smile. The older lady appears to be training a new employee on the register.
A Filipino man in a black shirt and dark khaki shorts comes from the smoking room and sits with the Caucasian lady in black to my left. He address her, "great table, how did you get this?" She mumbles a bit, I cannot understand her and closes her book. He is wearing dark framed glasses, shaking his head as she says, "right... are you prepared?" “It's not till may 16th,... I've already read the review.” he responds. His eyes and then his head wander, looking around to his left. "Sounds good" he says as he quickly turns back to face her, gets up, and quickly heads back into the smoking room.
There is a sign with an arrow, printed on letter size paper, lamented and attached to the top of the double-wide doorway jam. Something, something smoking; the arrow points down, suggesting smoking beyond this point.
The shop begins to slows down.
An African-American man comes out from the back. He is tall and skinny wearing dark jeans rolled just above his ankles, a plaid button-up with the sleeves rolled three-quarters and a beanie slightly back off his forehead.
A Caucasian man in a blue shirt comes from the smoking room, messenger bag secured to his right, glances to the girls doing schoolwork, opens the door with this right hand and leaves.
Posters, pictures, illustrations and a mural, representing various American music legends cover the walls.
The Filipino man who sat with the girl in black, whom is now gone, came in through the front door with a book in his hand and proceeded into the smoking room.
The African-American man who came from the back took the lady in blacks seat to my left. He has covered the table in coins and small bills and has begun counting it and separating it into the bottom half of five torn Half & Half containers.
The two Caucasian ladies doing group work, pack up and quickly leave.
The sound of mugs, dishes, conversation, and now coins dropping upon each other fill the air.
There are now two Caucasian guys at the table with the man in orange. They smoke, look down at their open books and interact.
To the right of where people have been waiting for their purchases is a hall way with coats hanging to the left and a letter sign size reading, “...Employees Only.”
“ORDER UP!”
Bang bang, the sound of mugs hitting wood, a mixer banged against a metal canister, coins into the half cut Half & Half containers... a mixer starts up. Voices are getting louder behind the counter, now silent.
The African-American man with the coins gets up and moves toward the counter and past the “Employees Only” sign.
A Caucasian lady with a musical instrument bag on the shoulder quickly leaves.
The African-American man who was counting the coins comes out from the back and is now behind the counter, adjusts his beanie and begins to check the coffee machines. Another Caucasian man, wearing a ball cap, is interacting with the coffee machines as well.
Adjacent to my left, on the other side of the door, but not in the smoking room is an old, nostalgic looking coffee machine.
To my right, "I ate three bananas today. I just realized that."
A tall Caucasian man to my far right, stands, cup in hand takes three steps, and returns his mug, which is quickly picked up by someone behind the counter; the same counter others have been receiving their purchases. He looks at a few employees and slowly sits back down.
Six people to my right, no one to my left, two currently behind the counter, and five visible in the smoking room. Everyone is sitting except for the employees behind the counter.
The Caucasian lady directly to my right has moved to the seat of the lady in black.
A Caucasian man in jeans, a black shirt and a messenger bag walks in and waves gently to the employee at the register. He approaches the counter, orders and pays with cash.
Two more people come from the smoking room; an African-American woman with a long skirt and head wrap escorted by a Caucasian gentleman with red curly hair. He looks at me as he follows the woman out; they are leaving together.
The Caucasian man in jeans who just ordered a drink, received it, picked it up with his right hand ever so delicately, walked toward the smoking room, turned back and decided to sit directly to my right. An iced beverage in a pint sized glass, spoon sticking out, he begins to stir it. Pulling a computer from his bag he sets in on the table, turns it on, stands with the power-cord, kneels and plugs it in under the bench seat which is mounted to the shop wall and runs the depth of the shop. He sits back down, puts head phones on and stirs his drink; his computer is powering up. Sipping his drink slowly and sets it down.
An African-American man, in all black walks in, looks around, sets his black messenger bag down to the right of the Caucasian man and his computer to my right. He looks around and snatches his back and rushes out the door. He's gone.
A Caucasian lady enters the shop, gray cardigan, long circular, skinny bag over her right shoulder (maybe an instrument) and a purse over the other, approaches the counter. She is there longer than others. The blender turns on. Moments latter, "Grande thai milkshake." She picks it up from the counter and leaves the shop.
A Caucasian lady behind the counter addresses the man to my right on his computer, he waves and says hello.
A Caucasian lady with an empty glass approaches the counter, "Where do we put this?" "I can take it" the lady with short dark hair says with a smile.
A repeating buzzing sounds penetrates the air, less people moving now, a lady coughs in the smoking room. Two people behind the counter interact; the tall, skinny African-American male and the Caucasian lady with short dark hair.
An older Caucasian lady walks in, wet blonde hair in a ponytail. She is wearing workout pants and a pull-over jacket with a hood. She orders a green tea and pays with exact change. The tall African-American man handles the order with a smile.
Everyone to my right is on a laptop; typing or interacting with the trackpad.
The radio is on now, “88.1”. A commercial plays. Did I simply not notice the music earlier because of the noise created by the people and service?
The lady with wet hair in workout clothes receives her beverage, a large mug, carries it with two hands and moves very slowly to a seat on my left. She slowly dips her tea packet up and down and stirs. (I just heard loud Pac-Man noises... or maybe arcade noises, I have no idea where they came from.) She dips her tea packet again, stops and pulls out a 3-ring binder and pencil and places them on the table, then rubs her knee.
Three people to my right, there is a Caucasian man and a woman working together on a single laptop; they are getting increasingly louder, but not annoying loud. She stands. She is young. An Indian woman. She moves quickly towards the door, cuts right and disappears into the smoking room.
The lights are old fashioned, sort of cheap looking.
A young Caucasian lady walks in, very skinny, in all black, wearing a folded bandanna around her head, carrying a military green messenger bag. Her pants are rolled to just above her ankles. She knows the tall African-American man behind the counter; they talk for a second and she orders a pastry.
The Caucasian lady to my left just sipped her tea and has now gone back to work.
The young tall Caucasian lady at the counter has moved to the right, she is interacting with the condiments, picking things she's going to use as she waits. The Caucasian gentleman behind the counter jokes with her.
The young Indian girl appears out of the smoking room, quickly returns to her friend and begins packing her bag.
Three young Caucasian ladies walk in. One goes into the smoking room and interacts with the men at the table with the man in orange The other two go directly to the counter. They are wearing pants and long sleeves and two are wearing beanies.
A Indian lady just walked out of the smoking room and left.
The young Indian girl and her friend just left.
The third girl at the counter just place her order, "...hot. I'm sorry" she responds to the gentleman behind the counter. They giggle a bit; I don't think they know each other. The other two ladies are to her right, waiting and giggling at the counter.
"Grande triple vanilla!"
A Caucasian man with a messenger bag leaves the smoking room and the shop.
The three Caucasian ladies in jeans, sweatshirts, and beanies pull up chairs and sit with the man in orange and his friend in the smoking room. They are getting louder. The man in orange, "Whoa, whoa!" The three girls laugh, as his friend stays quiet, smokes and looks at his book.
Two Caucasian ladies, one with died red hair and highlights, and a very punk rock-ish style and the other dressed in long black basketball shorts and a big red shirt come from the smoking room and order refills.
The radio is still playing, they appear to be talking now.
A gentleman walks in wearing a button up shirt tucked into his jeans, a ball cap and white flip-flops places an order and moves to the right, he waits.
Punk rock girl receives her refill and slowly goes back to the smoking room.
The tall skinny girl in black with the rolled pants jokes with the guy behind the counter, receives a drink, goes to the smoking room, grabs a paper and comes back to sit down across from the pick-up counter on the bench mounted to the wall. The tall african-american employee comes out from behind the counter and talks to her. He stands, with towel in hand, and they talk as she eats more of her pastry.
The skinny female employee with short dark hair brings mugs from the back and stacks them behind the counter next to the coffee machines.
The Caucasian man in a button-up tucked into his jeans with a white baseball cap and flip-flops receives his drink in a paper cup, adds his condiments and leaves the coffee shop.
The tall skinny African-American guy comes back around the counter, drops off the towel, looks just around the corner into the smoking room and then goes back behind the counter.
The facilities are worn. All the chairs and tables are old, used and mismatched. The counter is built in four pieces. A wooden, homemade stand that supports Tupperware containers filled various coffees. To the right a glass case with pastries from top to bottom. Further along, a short counter with packaged coffees and various other assortments. And finally a long counter, black with a red band near the top and a lighter reddish wood top, holding the register and the condiments.
The sound of coffee beans flowing into a container.
Two middle aged Caucasian men walk in. One in work clothes, button-up, slacks and loafers. The other in jeans, sneakers and a tucked in collared shirt. They pause before the reach the register to discuss something, then slowly make there way to order. They both wear glasses.
Two caucasian men leave the smoking room and the restaurant. One young, the other much older. Messenger bags, glasses, and button-ups.
The orange shirted man's table is enjoying themselves. They laugh, puff on their cigarettes and talk.
An Indian man has left the smoking room and the building.
A young athletic Caucasian lady walks in wearing Adidas shorts, shoes and a t-shirt exclaiming STANLEY CUP CHAMPIONS on the back. She waits in the line that has begun to back up. A middle aged woman and her young daughter, around the age of 8, place their orders.
A Caucasian gentleman with a dark green short sleeve button appears from the coffee room with paper cup in hand and gets in line.
Another Caucasian man in front of him, long curly hair and mustache, in his early twenties, waits to pay, does so and moves to the right. His style is retro.
The athletic girl is on her way out as she sees the guy in the baseball cap behind the counter, points and starts a dialogue with him. They begin to talk about people they know, some kind of get together they were at. "C-ya. C-ya." She leaves and he goes back to work.
The Caucasian gentleman from earlier in the dark green button up waits for his drink to be refilled.
The orange shirt man's table is laughing loudly, smiling and sharing conversations, but his male friend is quiet with a light grin on his face, he takes a puff of his cigarette. He has a shaved head, is wearing a hooded sweatshirt, and jeans.
More creative looking Caucasian ladies walk in. Dressed in jeans and cut-off jean shorts. The man in orange comes out from the smoking room and high-fives one of them.
The Caucasian lady to my left is joined at her table, not greeted, by an older man. He has a plastic crate full of stuff, sets it down and goes to order a drink. After receiving it he returns, sets a napkin down and places his coffee mug up on it. Next he puts on glasses, light metal frames, pulls out a book from the crate and begins to study read and write. She doesn't appear to know him; they have not spoken.
Cup-A-Joe 7:53 PM