Breakfast at the Hipster Cafe’

Here’s a quick anecdote from today.

I met a friend for a bit of brekky at a Hipster joint on 40th Street and Camelback in Phoenix, AZ.

I always arrive early to scope the place. Since it was early and the joint was empty, I thought I snagged a table and enjoyed a cup of coffee.

As I opened my car door, I was assaulted by LOUD modern music thumping in the outdoor patio dining area and blasting away in the indoor dining area.

SO LOUD I felt the music.

I’m an old hold-over from the ’60s, and I LOVE loud music, but this was modern music, a blend of hip-hop, rap, and monotonous, repetitive melodic lines with no rhyme or reason, but the undertone was thumping to carry the unintelligible lyric lines.

The joint resembled an old auto service center revamped into a hipster cafe. I think it was a Goodyear Tire Center; whatever works, I guess.

I’ll set aside my immediate impressions for now, but the subsequent encounter reaffirmed that no one is teaching logic or critical thinking. The young, twenty-something fellow at the door asked how many, and I replied TWO. His reply told me everything I wanted to know about this establishment and his educational background.

Try to follow my logic…

Greeter: How many?

Me: Two, please…

Greeter: Is the other party here?

Me: No…

Greeter: Then you’ll have to wait until the others arrive before I can seat you…

Me: What?

Greeter: That’s our policy…

Me: OK…

I recall an axiom from my great-grandfather. “When engaging in a battle of wits, ensure your opponent is armed…” or, in this case, educated enough to engage.

I realized immediately that this young man would never comprehend the logical argument I would present, so I found a place on the “Group W Wench” out front and waited for my friend to arrive.

Here’s my premise.

Regardless if I am alone or with one other person, I /we will only require a small table. So why should I wait outside when the cafe is empty? I could easily occupy the table we would probably take, enjoy a cup of coffee, peruse the menu, and suffer the annoying, loud thumping music.

Since my answer to the first question was TWO, it would follow mathematically; since I was standing there, the remainder of two minus one is… one, so it’s not others, but another person.

• OMG, I can hear my father in my head right now…

My friends’ first comment as we were seated was, “Please turn the music down…”

They offered printed copies of their bill of fare; however, they recommended scanning the QR Code for the smartphone menu. Maybe my long white beard gave me away…

The meal was mediocre, as was the service. Apparently, I reminded the server of an axe murderer she’d seen on TV; maybe I looked too much like Nick Nolte without the Hawaiian shirt… She went from accommodating to surly in a nanosecond – I have no idea why.

OH… I forgot about the White Supremacy and systemic racism in America. A smiling old white dude is obviously in the KKK and the reason you’re waiting tables and not cruising in your Bimmer cabriolet…

I’ve worked as a server, bussed tables, and cleaned up in restaurants. I know how hard the staff works to service an overdemanding and entitled hipster clientele… so I adjust my expectations accordingly… BTW, the coffee mug handle was sticky…

My comment above regarding my encounter with the greeter is based on what I see from our public indoctrination centers. They program the sheep to follow, not to think, leaning on innocuous canned corporate responses and not repartee’…

For the Amalgamated Heavy

Charles Dickens