Trouble in Everything

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Things just keep disappearing around the house pens, for example. No matter how many of them there used to be-red , blue ones , green ,black ,funky gel ones ,purple ones, sooner or later they all disappear . I never understand this bizarre vanishing act. Where do they go? A pen parallel universe? And why does this keep happening to this particular object? It would be fine if it happened to other unwanted objects all over the place –but that is not to be. What you don’t want stays there, and what you need disappears. Murphy was right-things always go wrong.

But you have to admit, the absence of pens are especially noticeable. When you need them you just need them. And needless to say, when you do, you cannot find a single one in sight. A typical occurrence is when someone calls. I was hoping to get hold of so and –so .She says, I need not say that the call is not for me. So it is my job to play secretary. When she asks in a sweet voice if I can pass on a message, I reply with a reluctant yet ebullient sounding “yes” She says her name is so- and – so , it is very urgent  , and leaves her numbers. She tries to reaffirm, “Do you have this down?” She inquires. Of course, I have not written down any of what she has said because I have neither a piece of paper nor a pen anywhere around. I somehow manage to get hold of a pencil with a very blunt tip and grab it and start writing down the message on the back of the nearest piece of paper which may well be something important. I ask her to repeat what she said as if I just want to reconfirm what I’ve written , when I really intend to just write it for the first time ! I just don’t understand where all the pens go, I really don’t.

But who cares about disappearing pens when there are such bigger problems in life. There are problems like having to go through meals and sleep at the right time, toothaches, backaches, headaches (courtesy of well –wishers at odd hours), nail polish, nail polish remover, the whole nine yards. There are the bigger worries of course, work, marriage, funeral services (since death in inevitable –as known from empirical evidence).There are more important and crucial –to –the –moment problems: when these happen, all others take a backseat. I’m talking about the immediate problem of caramel getting stuck to your teeth , the need to go the toilet when there isn’t one in the vicinity, and the urgent need for a pen when the one you have doesn’t work .Didn’t I just say there were bigger problems than the pen thing? Yes, I don’t make sense .I realise that. There’s trouble in every-thing .The magnitude of trouble does not know of consistency.

Everyone is always in trouble of some form or another. When one problem is solved the next biggest problem takes the hot seat and so on. It is impossible to be totally free, it is impossible to be totally free, it is impossible to find all the pens that you are looking for (just let me try and get my head around this analogy).But it is possible to savour the fleeting moment of pure exhilaration when you cross off priority Number I and are free from one problem even though an infinite number of problems wait beneath it .I’m talking about the joy after removing the sticky caramel from an inaccessible region in your mouth and being happy at that moment even though you still have to pay off a housing loan. Let me tell you a Nasiruddin Hojja joke that always makes me feel really good. A wretched looking man sat with a sack tied to a rope when Nasiruddin walked up to him. Nasiruddin asked the man why he looked so miserable .The man replied that he was extremely poor, and of what he had, just about everything had been stolen and the sack he carried contained his only remaining possessions. He was so unhappy that it was almost as if he had nothing to live for as nothing could every make him happy. After hearing this Nasiruddin picked up the man’s sack, and stared running away with it as fast as he could. The poor man frantically chased after him, pleading him to give it back. After a long chase, Nasiruddin stopped and returned the man his sack. The man, who was in suicidal despair a few minutes age, was now ecstatic at being reunited with his possessions. Nasiruddin smugly said, “This is a way to make someone happy.” just getting it back makes it all so much better.

Conversations in a Coffeehouse

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I enter the shop to be embraced by the aroma of freshly roasted coffee and chocolate. The owner , a youngish man with neck-length brown hair , silver rings on three fingers, dark clothes defining the grunge look, dark clothes defining the grunge look, one born to run a coffee store, strolls out of his office to greet me and my teammates . The interview for my retailing class project launches as Aaron, the owner, ushers my group to sit on the cozy sofas.

Aaron Wallace has been working at coffee station for 4 years. This past October, he purchased the store from a Kuwaiti gentleman who brewed the business. Aaron firmly relies on buying high – quality coffee beans, and does not roast his own, as he thinks it will lower consistence in quality. Aaron believes in value added service, or customer orientation.”[we are] improving every semester,” he mentions with a smile.

From afar, the light- brown, rectangular wood stone shopping centre does not scream out, “Come in!” However, the patio outside coffee station holds metal tables and chairs that encompass a petite and amusing fountain .While inside, the burnt –orange walls, silver and black tables, chairs on centre accompanied by a few sofas on one end, and a diner-like sitting arrangement at the other corner provide an inviting atmosphere. The large metal and wooden counter that encompasses the espresso machine, frozen drink and coffee makers, and the pastry shelf might also help bring in clientele.(so that’s what they do in coffeehouses!).An abundance of train photographs might suggest a childhood fixation gone horribly wrong, but this is simply a homage to the town where the business stands, college station, named after Texas A&M University and the rail station that dragged in the victims, I mean, students, these dual entities overlooked the area a century back, much before the eccentric cappuccinos   rolled in.

Aaron, a native of neighbouring town Bryan, declares, “The specialty drink board has helped growth.”These include the cappuccinos described above, cafelattes, and so forth. On the other cup, he expresses that high quality plain coffee is what retains regular customers. He goes further to describe the most expensive coffee beans like Jamaica Mountain Blue, at a whopping $50 /1b.It is often advertised as the “most delicious coffee in the world.”I tried it, and beg to differ. During summers, half the university students leave town and notably divide our young entrepreneur’s client base. Thus, Aaron would like to attract more locals, and has initiated newspaper ads to entice those who do not abandon ship on semester breaks.

The interview ends, but as our project is still roasting, my team frequents coffee station to complete our aromatic journey. Often in team projects, a head of the clan naturally arises, in our case, tall, lean Jennifer sporting reddish brown hair and a striking sparkle in her eyes took the crown with her effervescent, coordinative nature. Liz and Melanie, lean blondes with a “go –get-em “attitude served as the backbone of our task force with their ever-ready insights and analyses. During breaks, we went to the patio to greet the spring breeze; the others sipped coffee (what else?) while treated the tongue with Hot chai. Maybe the Indian world for tea is used to capitalize on its burgeoning popularity , and an English world like tea would be too bland , old –fashioned, too…..

British. I wonder if the chai will be another hip trend that the western fashion gurus will toss away like the henna, or temporary tattoo, popularized by Madonna and soon afterward parceled back to mother India. My group gabbed on daily life: Jennifer’s upcoming wedding Liz’s job opportunities, Melanie’s engaging sister/roommate. Often, I felt like chandler from the early days of NBC’S sitcom friends, here I am with three beautiful young ladies in a quaint coffeehouse, and (isn’t this great) I am just their friend!

As the curtain fell on the project, I went for a solo visit to coffee station. From my round seat below, I could see most of the second floor, and the upward sloping black and brown trail that leads the way. The significantly smaller second –story stores scores of scriptures (yes , I do enjoy being annoyingly fancy ).one of the books resting on a table upstairs Stephen king’s insomnia ,caught my eye , I wonder what this novel is doing in a shop that supplies enough caffeine for a fraternity house showing of a French film by Jean Cocteau? (Vain attempt to sound intellectual.)

Coffeehouses are cultural phenomena that have become an integral aspect in American culture. From the prominent Central perk featured in NBC’S friends, to almost every major town holding a mug hours, it is not surprising to see the coffeehouse juggernaut star bucks earning $1 billion in merely 4 months .This institution has made a quantum leap since the first recorded coffee shop that ran with the ottoman empire, as the sultans savoured this drink in their potential mates’ merits based on the taste of her coffee. As the opera music illuminates the already well –lit coffee station. I glance over at my blond tea server, and ponder the situation. Maybe I will ask for her opinion on the ancient Turkish custom some other time.