Regulars

There’s one fool proof way to make friends with people, and that is to literally just be there. As frequently and consistently as possible. The sheer sharing of physical presence creates an attachment (I think there’s some science behind this too). And then, it’s easier to open up to others and share depth. Essentially, you become a regular. And that’s just the beginning.

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I’ve worked at this coffee shop now for around 3 months, and I have to say, it is probably my favorite job that I’ve ever had. Even though it’s physically taxing at time, I would almost always be excited to wake up at 5:30am and go to work. And it’s just coffee, but there’s something so soothing about that simplicity. It’s just coffee. There’s only so much you can mess it up, you know? Only a matter of time and practice before you master it. A known recipe for success. And maybe that’s why it’s so attractive to me. How could I fail?

But in another way, it was also quite difficult. I’ve never worked in such a fast paced and stressful position before. And in such a rush, people are bound to scuffle. Learning how to teach people how to treat me? That was new. It was scary. But I’m glad I’m learning how to find my way.

One of my parts about the job was learning the regulars. Their names, their orders, their moods. It was almost like a game to me. Some of them would come to know me a little too. Others I would share inside jokes with. And even others I would surprise by remembering their name. “Wow that’s impressive, I haven’t even been here for a while. How did you remember my name?”

Somehow I feel attached to these superficial characters. Of course I know next to nothing about their actual lives. In fact, I don’t even know their last names. How can I be so attached to someone I don’t even know?

How could they be so attached to me?

Last week, one of the regulars came in for his usual small Americano. I took his order and let slip that I’d be leaving soon. Surprisingly he was genuinely upset by the news. I knew the regulars would have to readjust to another employee, but I hadn’t expected to be such a large part of their routines. Their smiles. “I’m really gunna miss you. You really are something, you know?”

Later in the day, my manager saw that I wasn’t my usual chipper self. He made a silly face to cheer me up, and that’s when the tears finally fell. The regulars wouldn’t be a regular part of my day anymore.

Weirdly enough what upset me more wasn’t that I was going to miss these people, but that they were going to miss me. Is it because I can’t control that? Is it because it strangely feels like I’m abandoning them? Is it because now both of us are grieving the potential? I really don’t know. Maybe it didn’t feel like a real relationship until I realized the other people cared too. Maybe they thought we had time and so didn’t have time to make peace with it. Maybe I was conscious from the start, and so I wasn’t surprised by the ending. Or even maybe it’s because I’ve practiced saying goodbye too many times to find the tears for these kinds of things.

I know how it feels to miss people that you won’t see in a long time again. To put that relationship on a half pause. Not quite an end. But not quite continued. Loved from a distance. No longer regular. No longer close.

An irregularly watered flower may not die, but it definitely will not thrive.

Honestly, I don’t want to travel to the next city. I don’t know why I’d be doing it. What “culture” do I want to learn about in London?? What friends are even going to be there? Why move just to leave in four months again?

Why plant flowers you know will be abandoned?

I know I know they’re pretty in the moment. They’ll continue to live it your memory, and all. But I think it’s time to stop living so short and bright.

I crave roots.

And depth.

And consistency.

I want to be a regular somewhere with some people. To stay some place long enough, not just to survive, but to thrive.

To belong.

Or learn to belong.

And teach people how to make me feel accepted.

I keep telling people that I’ll be back in May. That if Argentina gets cancelled, that I’ll probably be back here.

Some say that they’ll keep an eye out for my return. Others say they’ll miss me. Some say that they’ll be here when I come back, but how can you guarantee a thing like that.

Most of all I just want to stop living in a rush. I want to allow time to gently and naturally carve my place into the community. I want to see people a couple times and become interested in getting to know them before sharing my deepest darkest secrets. I want to build lasting ties before deciding to sever them on a predetermined expiration date.

Somewhere, I want to be known as a regular and become a thriving part of the scenery.

It’s simple, really. Almost foolproof.