Through that big tall glass window I saw a man in a blue checkered dress shirt and jeans, with his dark rim glasses, hurriedly walking in. He was the man I was waiting for. For the first time we've known each other, I was early. I turned my attention back to a half constructed email as he pushed the door open, and soon I sensed his arrival, as he gently tapped my hand that was holding the smart phone. "Hi". He said. I handed him a bag filled with pickled herrings in plastic containers and some home made pumpkin bar with chestnut cream. I informed him that I had ordered Non Fat Cappuccino (NFC). They don't do non fat. So almond milk instead. NFC came with same design as the last time I was here. The barista poured a perfect heart on the top of the foam. The man ordered a drip decaf. Said that he would be up all night if he drank caffeinated drink. I would not know that. I did not meet him for coffee much, though that thought had crossed my mind many times over.
We waited for the coffee to drip and caught up. He complimented my new look. "You are making a lot of changes." He said. My mind was somewhere else that day so I said nothing until he said, "You are not even looking at me." I was caught off guard by that comment so I raised my eyes to meet his. I was disturbed by his comment and wanted to know why he was so testy, but just then the decaf drink was ready. He kept his black and bitter. I liked mine foamy and sweet.
I had sent photos I'd taken of this place earlier to this man. In my note I said, "I like the upstairs." So he led me to the stairs. So upstairs we went. The building itself was airy. It was nice to sit on the bar stools and look down and watch others ordering and making drinks. You could see the office and the roasting facility from where we sat. It had more space than needed, which made this place a little out of place in an increasingly expensive neighborhood, but it also made this place inviting. Conceivably one could spread out on that giant farm table next to us and have a review of a recently drawn architectural blueprint for a house remodeling project.
"You've changed. I have not. And I feel that you are expecting me to change. " Man had pointed out that my external appearance had changed, which was an indication that I had made internal changes as well. I had not. I liked to make physical changes to spruce things up, because staying constant would be boring and uninspiring. Man thought the problem was that I had expected him to change with me. A carefully cultivated friendship whereby two people were on a balanced scale, afraid of the other tipping the scale. Now the man sensed a tipping was going to occur.
I drank my drink.
I first discovered espresso drinks made the proper way in Vienna. That was 14 years ago. Before Viennese coffee, I thought Italian espresso were made for people on the go, drunk in a hurry in Rome, during lunch break. Not in Vienna, where cafes were filled with books and music. In France I could sit in a cafe drinking espresso drinks for hours on end while waited for the summer storm to pass. Here in SoMa, people took drinks swiftly as they discussed their latest product for their startups. But not that day, not with that man, even though both of us worked in startups, and he was in fact working actively on a new product for his firm.
"You know what? I think drip coffee took too long." He all of sudden said. To this man everything was about saving time. He had little spare time to speak of. Everyone had to be slotted in. I was one of the slotted spots for the day.
"But, did you taste the hint of chocolate? Or was it cherry today?" I asked, while smiling. Sightglass was known for their flavor of the day.
"No, it's just bitter and dark." He said, decidedly.
"Then perhaps you should stick with instant coffee. Like the Kopi Lowak I got for you." Balinese coffee was finely ground and mellow, like how I was before.
Not Sightglass. Sightglass coffee has intensity and personality. It's bold and unapologetic, like the version of me I'd like to evolve into some day; or, as the case may be, at least to this man, like the version I had already become.
We waited for the coffee to drip and caught up. He complimented my new look. "You are making a lot of changes." He said. My mind was somewhere else that day so I said nothing until he said, "You are not even looking at me." I was caught off guard by that comment so I raised my eyes to meet his. I was disturbed by his comment and wanted to know why he was so testy, but just then the decaf drink was ready. He kept his black and bitter. I liked mine foamy and sweet.
I had sent photos I'd taken of this place earlier to this man. In my note I said, "I like the upstairs." So he led me to the stairs. So upstairs we went. The building itself was airy. It was nice to sit on the bar stools and look down and watch others ordering and making drinks. You could see the office and the roasting facility from where we sat. It had more space than needed, which made this place a little out of place in an increasingly expensive neighborhood, but it also made this place inviting. Conceivably one could spread out on that giant farm table next to us and have a review of a recently drawn architectural blueprint for a house remodeling project.
"You've changed. I have not. And I feel that you are expecting me to change. " Man had pointed out that my external appearance had changed, which was an indication that I had made internal changes as well. I had not. I liked to make physical changes to spruce things up, because staying constant would be boring and uninspiring. Man thought the problem was that I had expected him to change with me. A carefully cultivated friendship whereby two people were on a balanced scale, afraid of the other tipping the scale. Now the man sensed a tipping was going to occur.
I drank my drink.
I first discovered espresso drinks made the proper way in Vienna. That was 14 years ago. Before Viennese coffee, I thought Italian espresso were made for people on the go, drunk in a hurry in Rome, during lunch break. Not in Vienna, where cafes were filled with books and music. In France I could sit in a cafe drinking espresso drinks for hours on end while waited for the summer storm to pass. Here in SoMa, people took drinks swiftly as they discussed their latest product for their startups. But not that day, not with that man, even though both of us worked in startups, and he was in fact working actively on a new product for his firm.
"You know what? I think drip coffee took too long." He all of sudden said. To this man everything was about saving time. He had little spare time to speak of. Everyone had to be slotted in. I was one of the slotted spots for the day.
"But, did you taste the hint of chocolate? Or was it cherry today?" I asked, while smiling. Sightglass was known for their flavor of the day.
"No, it's just bitter and dark." He said, decidedly.
"Then perhaps you should stick with instant coffee. Like the Kopi Lowak I got for you." Balinese coffee was finely ground and mellow, like how I was before.
Not Sightglass. Sightglass coffee has intensity and personality. It's bold and unapologetic, like the version of me I'd like to evolve into some day; or, as the case may be, at least to this man, like the version I had already become.
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