October 6, 2009

My morning Tim Hortons stop before work is a regular freak show. From the group of 12-15 seniors (including a certain local weatherman) that inhabit the tables on the right side of the room (God forbid anyone else take one of their tables!), to the old lady with the Boston accent and big Red Sox jacket who always has a perma-scowl and is reading the paper to see how her team did the night before (“Yeah, Timmy just didn’t have his knuckle-ball working last night” – real quote), to the lady behind the counter that just refuses to swipe your Tim card and makes you do it yourself, regardless of if the machine is working or not. This is just on a regular day…and today was an entirely different comedy of errors.

First of all, when I walk in, I’m standing about 5th in line, and this guy comes in after me and lines up behind me. Now, I don’t think there’s a handbook that tells you what the proper distance is when you’re standing in line, but this guy was nearly on top of me. Surely he must have just mis-judged and stepped too close, then couldn’t step back with someone behind him. So, when somebody gets served and we take a step forward, and I figure that will solve the problem.

Wrong.

This guy sidles on up behind me like he’s ready to spoon. Probably as close as you can be without him actually touching me, or me feeling his breath on my shoulder. It’s very disconcerting. Then, after the next person gets served, same thing…I take a step (a little bigger this time), and sure enough, it’s like I’m towing him behind me. I actually turn and look at this guy as if to say “Really? You need to be that close to me?” and he just smiles, which made the whole situation even weirder.

Now I’m 3rd in line, and when the next person gets served, this idiot in front of me with a grey mullet refuses to move forward, just casually leaning against the side like he doesn’t have a care in the world, and there isn’t a line-up out the door of people waiting to move forward, and somebody behind me that is bordering on an act that I would normally call the police for.

When The Mullet goes up to the counter he orders three coffees, and when the guy behind the counter tells him it’s $4.92, he proceeds to pull out a pocket full of change and spread it out on the counter, sliding dimes and nickels and quarters over as he’s counting. He gets through ALL of the change and finds that he’s 7 cents short, so he tells the guy he’s going to run out to his car and get it. The guy behind the counter was very patient, and just took my order while The Mullet ran outside. So I order my coffee, and while I’m waiting, I turn around to see The Mullet pulling and rattling the door that says…and I’m not making this up…in big block letters about a foot high each…EXIT ONLY. It was like that classic Far Side cartoon.
Proportionately, the letters were about that big…and right at eye level. He was actually trying to look around them to get someone’s attention to let him in. I saw him, obviously, but I wasn’t about to open the door for him. Now, when The Mullet finally came back, he handed the guy behind the counter a dime, and—get this—told him to keep the change! Then, as I’m picking up my coffee off of the counter, which is beside his three coffees that have been sitting there while he ran out to his car, he actually bumps me to get to his coffees. And doesn’t say anything.

Just another fun-filled morning at my neighbourhood coffee shop.