60 to 70 Percent?

For a lot of reasons I never really visit the big corporate coffee shops anymore. Aside from any of the moral or economic concerns that I've developed, Pittsburgh has an embarrassment of riches when it comes to cozy, independent coffee shops. It's easy enough to find them, and they often smell of chai and are full of cool stuff like local art and Lesbian Pride flags. Why would one bother with a chain?

That said, I do have fond memories of the interactions with the folks I used to meet at "the big place."

One afternoon I popped in to a nearby location, and as is often the case, noticed an older gentleman meeting with a young couple at a table across the room. He was showing them his laptop screen, full of colorful charts and graphs. Nothing unusual about this. One of the primary benefits of a place like this is a neutral ground to meet a realtor, advisor or freelance client. I've done it myself. 

Something seemed off here, though, and I wanted someone else to confirm the vibe. As soon as I was finished ordering my oversized mocha with the barista I looked around to make sure no one was in line behind me or in immediate earshot. I leaned in slightly and said "Can I ask you a question?"

She tensed up slightly, perhaps steeling herself under the assumption that a man twice her age was about to ask for her number. Oops. Sensing her discomfort, I spat it out quickly:

"You get a lot of people doing like, business meetings here, right?" I gestured very slightly to the trio across the room. 

Her posture relaxed. "Oh! yeah. All the time. Why do you ask?"

"Well, in your estimation...how many of them are like, scams or pyramid schemes?"

Her eyes widened and she leaned in hard and dropped her voice to a whisper. "Oh my GOD! Like, 60 to 70 percent? I always want to jump across the counter and tell these people to RUN."

Her intensity forced me to stifle a burst of laughter. I met her gaze and her tone. "Well...do you? Ever say anything?"

She shook her head almost imperceptibly. "No... I mean...what would I say? And they're all buying coffee and depending on how long they're here, maybe more than one cup per person. The best I can do is tell my coworkers not to get pulled in."

"Fair enough" I admitted. 

She seemed to recall a specific event. "Although, the closest I ever came...people meet here for first dates too, you know?"

"Oh no" I replied, anticipating-

"Oh YES. This one guy was being such an asshole and was obviously making up everything he was saying to the girl he was with. I could tell this would not end well and I kept trying to meet her eyes- shake my head, gesture out the door, communicate telepathically, anything."

"Did it work?"

"No! They were here for HOURS."

"A valiant effort, at least. You did what you could."

"Eh, I probably could have done more, but that's not my job." She shrugged. At any rate my coffee was almost ready. I shrugged too and we chuckled and I headed to the other end of the counter. 

It's true that they don't pay the staff to prevent customers from being scammed, or catfished, or whatever. Maybe a more community-oriented lesbian coffee shop would have some kind of signal or solution to discourage the ne'er-do-wells. Just because this stuff is happening in public, in the middle of the day, doesn't mean it's not going to end badly. We should be looking out for each other, but realistically, it's not really anybody's job. 

It's also possible that charging seven dollars for a cup of coffee is the biggest scam of all, and no one has put a stop to that, either. What a 2003-ass thing to say. I dunno. We make most of our coffee at home now.