We're doomed, says the barista
A story about looking into the abyss at your local coffee shop
I ask the barista how it’s going.
“Honestly?” he asks.
“If you feel like telling the truth,” I say. “Or, you can lie to me. I won’t know the difference.”
The barista lets out a heavy sigh.
“I have this overwhelming sense of doom.”
“Yikes! Have you thought about switching to decaf?”
“I haven't had any coffee in months,” he says.
“So this is real doom shit?”
“This is real doom shit,” the barista confirms.
“Is it politics?” I probe. “Politics can mess anyone up.”
“No, it’s bigger than politics.”
“Personal tragedy?”
“Nah, life is fine. Except, you know, for the doom.”
“This isn’t a sports thing, is it? I bleed Dodger blue. I’m a member of Raider Nation. Point is, I know losing. I know it well. But there’s always next season.”
“No, no, I don’t even like sports.”
“Maybe that’s the problem. Have you thought about following Formula One, or playing pickleball?”
“I think human civilization is in decline. That’s the doom.”
“Like we’re heading for the apocalypse?”
“Maybe,” the barista says. “But not like an end of the world kind of thing, more like a steady erosion of civilization.”
“So… more Mad Max than Road Warrior?”
People forgot that in the first film of the Mad Max franchise, civilization is still there, hanging on by a thread, but nevertheless hanging on, thanks to people like Max, who was a cop before he went mad. I want to explain this, but the barista shakes his head.
“It’s more like everything that’s good and decent in the world doesn’t matter anymore because it’s all just a self-involved shit-show.”
Now, I see. This isn’t a Mad Max situation, it’s a Walter Sobchak situation.
“If it helps, I’m pretty sure the human condition has been a self-involved shit-show since the very beginning.”
“I don’t know if that helps,” the barista says.
“Well, look at it this way. That self-involved shit-show got us this far. A thousand years ago, you and I wouldn’t be chatting in some coffee house, we’d be serving some dipshit king in some bullshit war, or breaking our backs in field we don’t own to make gruel that doesn’t taste very good. Or we’d be dead, because let’s face it, you and I are men of a certain age, and in the previous age, we’d be old as fuck, but now we’re mid-forties, which is the new late-thirties. Plus, we have organic coffee and vegan chocolate chip cookies that you and I both know from experience taste better than the regular chocolate cookies, and that mind-bender somehow tricks you into thinking that the better cookie is the guilt-free cookie, even though we both know damn well that there’s no such thing as a guilt-free cookie, there just isn’t.”
“See, that’s the problem,” the barista says. “If this is the height of what we can do as a civilization, we’re doomed. And yeah, the vegan cookies are great, but people are still dying in bullshit wars, working themselves to death, killing the planet... it’s all just so depressing.”
It is depressing. I can’t argue with that. Actually, that’s not true. I can argue with that. I was, just now, arguing with that. I often argue with that. Daily, in fact. Sometimes I think the mere act of getting out of bed and confronting the world is an argument with that. With a little luck, grit, and love, I will continue to argue with that until the day I die.
But right now I need a break from arguing.
I need a coffee.
And a vegan chocolate chip cookie.
Unfortunately, I left my wallet, the one that says bad motherfucker, at home. So I tell the barista to cancel my order.
“No worries, man, I got you. One coffee, one vegan chocolate chip cookie coming up.”
“Thanks. I’ll get you back next time.”
The barista nods. He still thinks we’re doomed, still thinks the human condition is a self-involved shit-show. Maybe he’s right about that, but the complimentary coffee and cookie say otherwise.
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Stick around and chat!
You know the drill. I’ve got questions, you’ve got answers.
Are we doomed? Give it to me straight.
What was the last cookie you ate? Look to the cookie!
Centerfield by John Fogerty is a banger, right? Lie to me, if you must.
Why does everyone forget about the original Mad Max, which depicts a world that could’ve been saved, if only more people had joined Max in standing up for the rule of law?
Walter Sobchak isn’t wrong, he’s just an asshole. Discuss!
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1. “Doomed” undersells the chaos of the moment, and history in general. There are good paths open. And many, many alternatives.
2. I almost bought a “protein cookie,” remembered I’m a human being, and got a white chocolate chip dose of sanity.
3. Bangers are in the headphones of the beholder.
4. I suppose it’s a split between people that never saw it, people that paid half attention, and powerfully motivated drinkers.
5. Perfectly put. I’ll just add that the performance makes me smile every time.
I have nothing insightful to offer except that I, too, fight doom by ensconcing myself in pillows. Mortimer is my new leader.