The Parable of the Idiots

In the coffee shop

One day a woman who happened to have an undiagnosed back injury which troubled her whenever she sat on hard or soft chairs, let’s call her Mary, made her way on foot to the coffee shop, which she frequented daily.

Mary always sat in a particular spot where there happened to be four chairs. One of the chairs there was just right, which reminds me of a story I once read about a wicked girl called Goldilocks who always liked everything just so, except that this woman’s name happens to be Mary.

Now it happened that this was a spot favoured by a couple who lived in the same village as Mary. However, since Mary always arrived at the same seat early at 7:30 a. m. she was unaware of it.

The other lady, let’s call her Sam, too liked the comfy chair set back from the gaze of strangers.

Now one day, Mary arrived late to the coffee shop, and she noticed that Sam was sitting in what she perceived as her seat. She decided not to approach Sam who, Mary observed, was half standing when she entered the coffee shop, and had tidied her bags to one side as though she were going to vacate her seat.

On seeing Mary enter the coffee shop, Sam sat back in her seat and waited.

Mary ordered her coffee and, although the coffee shop was full, she noticed a man was tidying a table by the window where there were only two seats and lots of space. Mary had noticed that couples liked to sit there with pushchairs, but, since Sam showed signs of wanting to hold onto her seat for longer, Mary placed her things at the uncleared table, while asking the man there, who was putting his gloves on, if he was leaving.

The man remarked that he just wanted to take his son’s trike away from the spot in front of the chair where Mary had placed her computer bag, so Mary left him to it and went to wait for her coffee knowing in her heart how territorial people become when someone else wants their seats.

Since the coffee was not forthcoming, Mary decided to make use of the conveniences and wash her hands, as a pandemic was raging and washing hands was something that was encouraged. Mary had also observed because she was mother of a large family of children, and had studied them closely, that children who exhibit bad behaviour are best ignored as long as they are safe, and usually stop the behaviour when it is not fuelled by the gaze, no matter how filtered it is.

Mary left the area and returned 5 minutes later. She observed, out of the corner of her eye, a conversation going on between the woman, Sam, who was sitting in her favourite seat and a man who had emerged from washing his hands just before Mary entered the café.

Mary also observed that the man decided not to leave, and instead he sat back down at the table with his companion, Sam, which was now cleared of coffee cups. Perhaps he was waiting for something.

Mary collected her coffee, which was ready at last, and carried it carefully to the table for two some distance away.

There was no plug adjacent to the table and her computer was running out of energy. She hoped the couple would vacate their seats, but perhaps they were waiting for someone.

Mary wanted a glass of water after her long walk into town so she went and stood in the queue to ask for one since there wasn’t a jug of water in the café.

When Mary returned to the seat, she noticed that the couple had at last left the café, and so Mary picked up her cup and was about to carry it to her favourite table when a young man who was with a young woman carrying triplets approached and asked Mary whether she was leaving the table where she had placed her cup.

Mary replied that she was, and was happy to note that the family of five were content and happy at the table for two.

Mary, of course, was happy at the table for four where she was now happily sitting comfortably.

Five minutes later, almost every table in the coffee shop had cleared.

I wonder, was Mary selfish to put her needs ahead of others?

This story was inspired by the parable from the Bible where a man is repeatedly told by strangers to get on and off a horse, depending on the perception of the person who was approaching him.

This is a WIP (work in progress). I wrote it immediately after it happened, to exorcise some stress, in six minutes. Usually a story like this is best left for several months to simmer like a good stew.

I will return to it and rework it at a later date. There are other stories that need to be written, and as that old adage goes

Time waits for no man

Hermione

P.S: The purpose of this blog is not necessarily perfection, since we are all works in progress.

Sometimes, the slip of a brush creates the illusion of a novice where it is merely that the craftsmen has gone out of fashion, and all that is wanting is a simple, but painstaking bit of revision, over months and years. This story will probably not be ready for another year. That is how long it takes after inspiration strikes. I clap fifty times to encourage my writers, because I know how hard writing is. It’s considered polite, and hopeful.

I also enjoyed this story about bowling, but not really about bowling at all, this morning by Mitch Ditkoff