Hello Sir, how are you today?

Honest conversations with baristas I didn't have

[hellosirhowareyoutoday]

– Hello sir, how are you today?​

– Oh, man. Today I went for a long bike ride through the fields and it was beautiful. The air had a pleasant heaviness to it; a heaviness that smells of spring and comes when the world is stirring into life around you; the heaviness that signals that, for a few short months, you need no longer plan your day by rucksacks and raincoats and can throw yourself into each and every day with abandon, following whichever way they turn. All around me there were people doing the same, greeting total strangers with the same warmth that floated around the air. And I had this beautiful feeling, this sense of true being, y'know? This feeling that living is this wonderful, happy exp...

– Sorry sir, you have some...is that spinach? In your mouth? Just there. Yep. Got it. Any coffee at all?

[hellosirhowareyoutoday]

SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA

– G’day sir, how are you?

– Well, I’m very jetlagged. It’s not often I’m here grabbing a coffee while the sun sets. But I guess it’s an experience. And what a sunset this is – this beautiful orange cast all over the harbour, and it’s heading to dip right between the Harbour Bridge and the Opera House. What a view.

The sunset really is the most beautiful thing in the world, isn’t it? Maybe it’s an evolutionary thing. Maybe it’s because, deep down, when the first humans, or monkeys, or whatever, watched it and they thought – they really thought – shit, this might be the last time we ever see the sun. The last time we see the giver of all life, which all culture revolves around. And the world became dark, and cold, and uncertain. And scary.

So we sit there and we watch it, helpless to do anything else, and we find it beautiful, because we are trying to hold on to every last second of light, every last grain or pixel of this image, just in case all that turns out to be true. And I think that’s why, when we watch a sunset with someone, we are saying: “If the sun never comes up again, well, I’m glad I watched it go down with you.” Maybe you’ll watch this one with me?

Hey, where’d you go?

[hellosirhowareyoutoday]

–Hello sir! How are you today?! What can I get for you!

–I think I am not nearly as excited as you, but I am quite happy. I’ll tell you why: I feel like we have turned a corner with this whole world-going-to-hell thing that was very in in 2016. But maybe I’m just being optimistic. Right now as I look at the USA it seems like proof that people will fight back. Institutions will fight back. The middle ground, the moderates, will fight back. And all the treason we suspected is slowly turning out to be true. And there may be a long way to go, but this vile regime feels like it’s unravelling already. And do we really still believe human scabies Steve Bannon can control the presidency from the shadows when he can’t even control the amount of skin falling off his face? Remember that he thinks he is in charge, but he does also think he is a member of the master race despite looking like a deflated, eczema-ridden Michelin Man.

And it feels like Amsterdam knows this too. Because the birds are out, and the sun is out, and it’s starting to feel warm on my skin again. So it feels like we have maybe turned a corner. Or maybe it’s just my instinctive disposition to feel happy because the sun is here and while that feels nice it stops me from understanding the true amoral depravity of human nature?

–I’m just gonna give you an espresso.

[hellosirhowareyoutoday]

–Hi sir, how are you doing today?

–Good! I’ve been catching up on my Netflix. I finally got through True Detective, and I have to say season two didn’t quite have the magic of season one. But, anyway. I had to get it watched so I can get watching the next thing. Which is the age we live in, I guess, right? There’s so much stuff to watch, and do, and everything’s within reach, and in short, everything is possible. But then, everything isn’t possible, because there’s only so much time in the day and there’s only so much we can do. So we spend our time either frantically doing everything we possibly can, or regretting that we can’t do everything. And I am overwhelmed by this feeling that the only thing that comes out of this world of infinite possibility is infinite regret.

–Hey, I see you’ve filled out your loyalty card! This one’s on us.

[hellosirhowareyoutoday]

–Hi sir, how can I help you today?

–Maybe you can tell me, who am I to you? I ask because I realised today that I come into every encounter with every person from a position of my own context - my own prejudices and self-knowledge, as much as anyone knows themselves. You, for example, you have no idea about my history, my childhood, the state of my mental health. You can't know the depths of feelings I have felt for other people or things, you cannot imagine me crying or, I dunno, tripping balls. You have no idea that five minutes ago I just got my bike wheel stuck in a tram track and flew overboard while 100 people laughed and one person shouted "wanker!", and that I’m entering this conversation with all this baggage, in the mood I’m in, in the context of every mood I’ve ever had. And because of that, I enter this conversation thinking I am the most important person in the world. And despite all of that, despite every second of my life that has been leading up to this encounter, the fact is I am entirely inconsequential to you, a piece of driftwood you don’t think twice about as you make your way to wherever it is you’re going.

And you too, you have this deep and textured history, a profound sense of being, hidden pain and joyful memories. Your life is at least as complicated as mine, and I will never even scratch the surface of it. And all I can think about now is the tragedy in this, that we will probably never truly know each other, that the miracle of all life and creation will be untouched because we meet in this context, where I'm just here to ask for a double shot Americano.

–Do you want milk with that, sir?

[hellosirhowareyoutoday]

–Hello sir, how are you today?

–I am happy. Truly, I am. I can ask for nothing. I have a good job. And I am loved, and I have love for other people. I whistle when I ride my bike and I do stuff like dance in the shower. It’d be embarrassing if I wasn’t so happy I didn’t care.

So the question on my mind is, is that it? Is this life now? I got there, to this misty pinnacle we call happiness, that's so elusive to so many people, and therefore the only way is down. The days of me seeking stuff and wanting stuff are over, because I have all the things now. And despite all the happiness I feel, I can't erase the question in my mind of "Is this it? Is this everything? Is this really it?" And that makes me sad again. And I wonder if my instincts are right, and maybe happiness isn't actually the end goal for everyone, that there's something else. Or maybe, everyone else is right, that I should count my lucky stars and realise that ultimately I am responsible for my own unhappiness and should stop thinking such bad thoughts because if I'm not careful I will be the architect of my own midlife crisis with accompanying drinking problem. Fuck, I dunno. I don't even know what I want to drink right now.

–Can you decide, sir? You are holding up the line.

[hellosirhowareyoutoday]

–Goodness me sir, are you ok?

–Yes! Actually, I have a tear in my eye because I just saw La La Land and I loved it. Movies have this effect on me. I can get really wrapped up in stories, and music especially punches me right in the feelings. Name a movie that's even vaguely sad, or nostalgic, and I've cried in it. Gladiator? Fuck yeah. Fucking: 101 Dalmatians. Oh and the Pixar one with the Joy and the Sadness. When you're in that girl's head with Bill Hader. Y'know. Inside Out! That's the one. That one got me big time.

But now I'm thinking, why movies? They're not real. I didn't cry when my parents told me they were divorcing, when I split up with my first girlfriend, when my dog died. It was a different kind of sadness, different each time. Am I more connected to movies, and music, and emotional manipulation because they're in contexts that aren't my own? And does this mean I am living, truly living my life, or does it mean I am begging for the escape of something else in order to really feel something. And more to the point why am I a writer when a single note can touch me on an emotional level than any word or book or essay I've ever written?

–If you bring your own cup you get 50 cents off your next drink!

[hellosirhowareyoutoday]

–Hi sir, how is your day going?

–Good! Well, kind of. Maybe it isn't. I'm not really sure what I'm doing. I am sitting here trying to do some writing, and I am just dimly aware of the cosmic insignificance of the things I am writing about. I am not really helping anyone, I'm just writing it with the unsaid expectation that you should be interested in what I'm writing about because I'm a really interesting guy and I write really well. As if I have some pre-destined right to be heard. It's the ultimate form of narcissism and I indulge it in every day. And at the end of that day, I might have written the most beautiful, hilarious, tear-inducing, bittersweet poem, but it's just words on a page, and some people might read it, maybe even like it, and none of it will matter for me if I slip over as I’m getting out of the bath.

–Ok sure, but for now what would you like to drink?

[hellosirhowareyoutoday]

–Hi sir, how are you today?

–I’m good! Well, kind of. Do you ever feel like the world’s zigging and you’re just trying to zag and go against the grain and be different and not just be another one of the fourteen billion humans that ever existed, and then you realise you’re not zagging, you’re just adrift with all the other hipsters and you all have the same fucking vinyl player and the same artisan flat white?

–One flat white, on its way.

[hellosirhowareyoutoday]

–Hello sir, how’s it going? What can I get for you?

–All good, thanks. I guess. Whatever that means. I’ve been doing some thinking recently about what ‘good’ and ‘bad’ mean.

I was just watching this argument about healthcare between a left winger and right winger. Both of them thought they had the right answer. And I realised that for both, more than they thought the other person was wrong, they thought the other person was bad.

I was thinking that I am fundamentally a good person, but then I realised that so does everyone. Everyone thinks they are good and that they know best, that they can help the world the most. And what if the other side are right? What if, objectively, I’m one of the bad guys? I’ll spend my whole life believing things are supposed to be done a certain way and I’ll never know. So I guess I’m concerned that maybe my life is a lie of my own creation and I need something hot and milky to make me feel better.

–One cappuccino, coming right up.

[hellosirhowareyoutoday]

–Hello, sir. How are you today?

–How can I be? How can anyone be when you know what’s going on on the other side of the world?

I gave money to charity today. I’m not virtue signalling, I’m just saying. Maybe it’ll buy some bandages or some morphine for a child or something. I don’t know. I do know it won’t reach anyone in time. Fact is, it won’t move suited diplomats who want to maintain this blockade of civilians. I’m useless. I gave money, probably too late. I could cry, maybe. Or I can write some shitty Tumblr post and talk about how unfair it is on the internet and show everyone how much I care. Or I can do nothing and ignore it. I can be the person behind me complaining her Christmas party wasn’t good enough. I can read the email iTunes just sent me inviting me to buy some stuff. I could watch The Kardashians.

I can watch videos of people saying that this will be the last video they post and to carry on the fight. People whose eyes have accepted death and are just waiting for the inevitable to happen. And I can watch all this from my warm seat and I can do so many things and all of them mean absolutely nothing. I don’t know what to do. Or how to be. Whatever happens, everybody dies.

–Yes, sir. But do you want the coffee?

[hellosirhowareyoutoday]

–Hi sir, how are you! What can I do you for?

–How am I? Well, today I found out that someone has been on TV repeatedly because he became a successful Vine star from filming one person while shouting “Daaaaaaaaaamn, Daniel!” over and over again. Then, I found out just how much you can get paid for being a “YouTube influencer”, which, it turns out, is a fuck load. I mean, all it is is doing some boring shit on a bad camera that millions of people watch in order to fill the time between the immediate present and death. And finally, I found out there is a trend called “The Fire Challenge” where over 30,000 people have literally SET THEMSELVES ON FIRE for social media likes. And I am thinking…fuck, I don’t even know what I’m thinking. I need a beer.

–We do not sell anything alcoholic. Next, please.

[hellosirhowareyoutoday]

– Hi Sir, how can I help you today?

– Oh, wow. Well maybe you can answer this question for me. I was just reading about “the 30 most successful people under 30″ and...I mean, do you ever feel like you’ve wasted your time here? Because I’m starting to have these realisations about the stuff I’ll never do. I haven’t started my own magazine network, I won’t be the CEO of a Fortune 500 company anytime soon and I still only have 200 Twitter followers despite, well, trying really hard to get more. And now there are all these talented artists and producers that are 10 years younger than me and I’m thinking I can’t do that either because clearly you have to get started young nowadays. And then I’m just left with the overwhelming fear that by the end of your life your main thought is just: did I actually do anything? Anything at all?

And then I think, well, I have a roof over my head, I snogged a sort of famous person once and I own a TV and I can afford flat whites. And who needs meaning when you have stuff, right?

– One flat white, coming right up.

[hellosirhowareyoutoday]

–Hello, sir! How are you today? What would you like to drink?

–Oh man, what a few weeks it’s been. I’m not an American, but I can’t deny I’m sad about Trump. It made Brexit feel even worse, and yet seemingly insignificant by comparison. Just now I went past this shop where I saw a placard that said “What the world needs is a group hug” and it made my blood boil. The world doesn’t need a group hug because that would just result in a mass stabbing. What the world needs is a better fucking education system because we can debate about the rights and wrongs of Hillary but at the end of the day voting for an internet troll who is a proven misogynist and has knowingly flared up racial divisions is objectively wrong and that’s basically the end of that.

And I am angry, really. I am angry because it is clear that this was an election won not despite racism and sexism but because of it. I am angry because of all the little girls who are going to risk their lives to have control over their own bodies because a 70 year old white man who is usually orange has rammed the Supreme Court full of even older, white men. I am angry because I live below sea level and Trump wants to reverse climate change consensus. And most of all, I am angry because I had no idea it was coming. Because I get my news from an echo chamber and all Facebook wants to do promote is that creepy Silicon Valley idea of love and happiness and sharing and positive reinforcement and that everything is fine and allowed because you know, you’re just being you, but really the world is a shitty, hateful place and no one fucking told me.

Which means the real sadness for me is that the world we live in is not the world I thought we lived in because I am one of the liberal elite who can afford a flat white and a scone now and again.

–The flat white: double or single shot?

[hellosirhowareyoutoday]

–Sir? How are you, sir? What can I get for you?

–Oh, I’m sorry for not hearing you, I was looking at my phone. Even though it’s my pet hate. Worst thing is, I wasn’t even looking at anything. Just scrolling through old photos to fill queuing time. I have this habit of reaching my phone when I’m somehow alone. It’s like this weird shield that keeps me safe from people approaching me.

–But what would you like to dr–

–And y’know, I really try not to look at my phone at every opportunity but it’s like a deep, irrepressible urge. Maybe I just can’t look the world in the eye. Or maybe, for some reason, even though I know they don't care, I’m just trying to tell strangers: “I am not alone! I have friends! I’m just on my own right now. But I’m talking to people, believe me. So don’t worry about me, I am doing just great.” And then I wonder if it’s all part of some kind of self-delusion I can’t even see because maybe the person I’m really trying to tell this to: that I am popular and that people need me and want to talk to me… maybe that person is me all along…and the more I think about that, the more I think: Well if you can’t sort out your relationship with your phone, an inanimate piece of plastic, then what hope do your relationships with people have?

–Yes but what do you want to drink?

[hellosirhowareyoutoday]

– Hi sir, how are you today?

– Well, since you ask, I am a bit confused. With all the recent developments in the UK with Brexit and all I find myself increasingly alienated from my homeland. Its values right now are not the ones I thought it had. And it got me thinking, I don't know where my home really is, apart from the one with all the unpaid bills on the doormat. I don’t have a home town because everyone I knew and liked left, including both my parents in their own separate directions. And I’ve lived abroad for three years now.

But I’m not sure home can be here in Amsterdam, because I’ve only been here for two years and I know I’m not Dutch and I don’t think like a Dutch person or behave like a Dutch person or drink enough milk to be a Dutch person... and Dutch people know I'm not Dutch, so I know deep down the most I can ever be is a visitor here. So I find myself having nowhere to call home and I’m wondering if I need one or where or how I could ever find one in this increasingly rootless world. Sometimes it feels like all I have is the same coldly familiar Eames cafes with the same exposed brickwork and the same raw wooden furniture and the same flat whites that follow me wherever I go.

– Ok sir, the flat white… is it for here, or to takeaway?

[hellosirhowareyoutoday]

PALM SPRINGS, CA:
–Well hi sir, how is your day going? 
–It started off really well, thanks, but then it got weird. So last night we all slept in the desert. By the time we got there it was dark, and the sun had lost all its power and we couldn’t see anything. All we had were these GPS co-ordinates to a hut at the foot of a hill. You know, so we drove there and it’s just us and our headlights: as far as we could tell, there was no man made light to be seen anywhere. Apart from in the distance, we could see security lights from someone’s porch. But the only sound was the sound of the wind and the occasional firework or gunshot in the distance. And it was awesome. We were completely cut off, you see. No phone signal, no distractions. We just talked. Like how they used to do it in the old days.
I made a fire and we cooked burgers and drank beer and talked about everything and nothing, and mostly just watched the fire. And afterwards, we slept briefly and got up to catch the sunrise. And we climbed the hill and watched the most magnificent sunrise, and we felt this magical feeling that many people have felt but is somehow unique and particular to every moment, and it’s that feeling of watching the world warm up underneath the source of all the life we know and have ever known while you’re surrounded people you’ve chosen to love. It was amazing. But as the world started to come into light again we noticed that amongst all the cactuses and mountains and rocks there were VOTE TRUMP 2016 posters all around us and this beautiful sunrise was just shining a light on the ugliness of the world. 
So I feel like I’ve been rickrolled by Trump and all the tiredness of not sleeping has made me feel miserable and now all I want to do is cling on to a huge, hot, milky cappuccino for dear life and pretend I’m not five seconds away from collapse. 
– Is that a Venti? Or a Grande?