The Columnist Manifesto

I just went to a coffee shop near the University that had a big tip can with the following sign on it:

Every café has a creepy guy who tries to hit on the young women who work there. DON'T BE THAT GUY!

At first glance, the sign is pretty funny, like a bit by a competent standup comic describing a familiar situation using a phrase or a setup that you'd never quite thought of in that way.

But on further reflection, I thought, "hey, wait a minute..."

The implications of this are too big for a quick post. For now, I'll make a couple of observations. I don't think I hit on young women working in cafés (or older women, or men, for that matter). It seems unfair to hit on service-counter workers, who are more or less trapped into being friendly towards you. Yet the sign sent me into a depressed reverie about whether I have ever been that guy in some context or other.

I don't think I like a coffee place that puts up signs designed to make me feel bad about myself.

I should explain that I ordered an "orange cappuccino" after the barista helpfully and informatively told me that "it's cappuccino with orange flavor." I imagined a small "flavor shot" of liquid orange essence, not the three heaping teaspoons of powder that turned my glass mug of cappuccino into a suspended particulate sludge looking like a pale version of freshly poured Guinness Draught (with the illusory downward rush of foam-bubbles).

The bitter orange-peel taste was too brutal for more than one sip.

"Every city has a café that refuses to give customers their money back for this disgusting unpotable swill -- Don't be that café," I should have said.