The Little Things

Every morning, I make my way to one of the neighbourhood cafes. There are quite a few, and each has something that brings me back. There’s one that's nearest to my apartment. There’s one with a great view. There’s one that serves delicious coffee, and its customers are a lively and entertaining bunch.

These neighbourhood cafes are not places you bring your laptop and aim to get some ‘work’ done. Most people know that. I wonder what would happen if someone did come into one of the cafes with a laptop? I am sure one day it will happen; maybe it already has. But for now, I like the fact that when I sit down in one of these cafes, I enter a space where in-person conversations take place — between friends and strangers. And where people are looking at one another, and not their screens.

Last week, I had my morning coffee at the lively cafe. The waitress came over, greeted me, and placed my coffee on the table. The thing was: she hadn't taken my order.

Maybe she knew I was a creature of habit. Maybe she had been paying attention to my previous orders. Maybe she was really good at her job—so many maybes. But one thing was certain: I was a happy customer. I felt seen. And as someone new to a community, that was huge.

In this fast-paced world, where most coffee orders are ‘to-go,’ and a personalized experience usually means the barista wrote your name on a cup, it’s nice to know I found a place where they do things a little differently.

Here the customers engage in lively conversations, and the wait staff takes the time to remember your face and your order.

It’s the little things…