87,000 Types of Coffee

Summary

A customer struggles to order a simple coffee amidst an overwhelming array of choices at a modern cafe, reminiscing about a more straightforward coffee experience from the past.

Abstract

The narrative unfolds in a contemporary coffee shop where a customer attempts to order a basic coffee but is met with a barrage of choices, including various sizes and types of coffee. This contrasts sharply with the customer's nostalgic memory of enjoying a straightforward, strong coffee with cream in Brussels forty years prior. The customer's interaction with the young manager of the cafe highlights the disconnect between the customer's desire for simplicity and the cafe's complex menu offerings, which boasts 87,000 different drink combinations. Ultimately, the customer settles for a "tall white Americano to go," reflecting the modern reality of convenience over the cherished experiences of the past.

Opinions

The customer longs for a simple coffee experience reminiscent of the past, indicating a preference for tradition and straightforwardness over modern complexity.
The overwhelming number of coffee options (87,000 combinations) is seen as unnecessary and confusing, rather than a positive feature.
The customer feels out of place and misunderstood in the contemporary coffee shop setting, suggesting a generational gap in expectations and experiences.
There is a sense of resignation as the customer compromises on their original desire for a nostalgic coffee experience, accepting the modern, streamlined version of coffee consumption.

But not the one that I want

— I’ll just have a coffee, please — Sure, what can I get for you? — Erm, just normal coffee please. White, no sugar — White Americano? Latte? What size did you want? — I hadn’t really thought. Just a cup would be fine. — But what size of cup? Tall? Grande? Venti? — Sorry, I’ll have to have a think. Just serve this person in the meantime.

— I think I’ve got it. A tall Americano please. With cream. — Cream? You mean the Voodoo Spiced Latte with whipped cream? — No, just regular cream is fine. — I don’t know what you mean. Let me ask the manager.

— How can I help you sir? — I’m sorry, I seem to be making a nuisance of myself. — It’s not a problem at all. — I appear to be spoiled for choice — I know. We have 87,000 different combinations of drink here. — Goodness! Why so many? — Let me know what you have in mind. I’m sure we can sort you out.

This is what I have in mind.

The Grand Place in Brussels on a chilly Autumn morning forty years ago. Me sitting at a pavement cafe watching the well-wrapped, affluent citizens rush by, while I smoke a meditative Gauloise just for the style hit.

In front of me a bone china cup, into which tar-black coffee has been poured. After this, the waiter has drizzled cream over the back of a teaspoon so it sits on top of the coffee. I will drink the coffee through the cream and get alternating blasts of toe-curling caffeine and waves of milky blandness.

My daughter has been kind enough to bring me into the shopping mall to collect a set of spectacles to a new prescription and have them fitted. She wants to escape to Marks & Spencer for a few festive foodstuffs and is happy when I suggest that I while the time away in the coffee bar.

I relish a little time on my own in society without being coddled, and I get completely misled by the proud boast of the cafe that I can have it my way.

Looking at the harassed boy manager in front of me, it’s clear that I’m not going to be recreating any golden moments from ancient history, and I might as well put him out of his torment.

— Tall white Americano to go, please.

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