The Man at 61C Cafe

So there's a coffee house called the 61C Cafe (so named because the 61C bus route stops directly in front of it) in which I spend a good deal of time as well as increments of $1.10 on small coffees. It's hardly cozy or comfortable; the 2' x 2' tables are paired with stiff wooden chairs and are arranged about 1ft apart. When the place is full, it looks something like a classroom of adults; everyone faces the window, staring at his book, or her laptop, or the book on her "desk", occasionally reaching for the cup of coffee at his/her side. But it has good, cheap coffee, and the granola and fresh fruit juices and muffins are delightful. So it's become the location of many a conversation, a relaxing afternoon off, and, mainly, a marathon study-fest with Mr. Jeff Koenitzer, my medschool partner-in-crime.

I'll be the first to declare something of a dependence on 61C, but I'll also be the first to name my problams with it. They mostly involve a very unfriendly server here. During my first visit, I discovered the cafe's cash-only policy in a humiliating way: the man behind the counter indicated as I pulled out my debit card that he wouldn't accept it. So I scrounged for change, and came up with $1 in coins, 10cents short. A line was forming behind me as the man kept telling me "cash only, cash only, it'll be $1.10." I was clearly 10cents short, and I personally felt that it would be of no consequence to him to let me just pay the $1 I had and be on my way, to avoid discomfort on my part as well as those behind me (not to mention the abundance of nickels and quarters in the tip jar that could have been used in my rescue--something I often did during my stint as a restaurant hostess). But instead, the man refused to serve me unless I had the exact amount. Finally, a kind (and probably impatient) woman behind me gave me a dime.

Since then, the man has proven himself to be quite the A-hole. My friend Robert and I are very frequently the first customers to the cafe; we grab coffee to go on our way to the bus at 7AM. We're very friendly, and have repeatedly tried to build rapport with our un-friend behind the counter. But every day, he treats us as if we were strangers, and coldly, at that. He has also repeatedly charged me extra for asking for yogurt with my granola instead of milk, which is normally a free substitution with other servers.

A couple of phrases I've heard come out of this un-friend behind the counter:
"I'm sorry, but it's hard for me to take advice when I clearly know more than you do."
"I don't allow any displays of affection in here. If I see people being affectionate, I ask them to leave."

The second was something I overheard just this morning, when the female coworker was describing a "Russian couple in their late 20s, early 30s kissing in the corner." She was describing her discomfort in approaching them to serve them their drinks, because (??) she feels uncomfotable serving Russians (!!).

Anyway, I should probably be studying rather than blogging. But I had to vent. I can't wait for his shift to be over so I can get some granola & yogurt without being overcharged.

I know I should just boycott the place, like Robert does, but it's just too convenient. Ah, 61C: can't live with ya, can't live without ya.