Consumer Choice

Several months ago, the cafe down the block from my abode changed ownership. The previous owner yelled at my dog (because her dog attacked mine, and so mine must be at fault, right?), so after going there once, I never returned. It was strickly a weekday cafe catering to workers in the area and not residents. Anyway, the new owner opened up the place on weekends and made a definite effort to be part of the neighborhood community, business and residential. He was almost too nice to my dog, giving her many many scraps of meat until she would come home and barf.
The cafe showed some of my neighbor’s art. The percussion group that Christi and I organized playes at the art openeing. The food was good and the staff was friendly. One of the transient people staying at my house got a job there. Christi got friendly with one of the staff who gave us a Rhodes piano that he wanted to see get restored (note to self: spend this afternoon fixing the dern piano). All was well and happy.
And then the food started to suck. They gave me raw pancakes. I vowed never to return. A week later I was back. Something else was not right. We quit eating food there, but just got coffee. Then Luoi started bringing home coffee from Gaylords (on Piedmont Ave in Oakland). Angels sung overhead when I drank that coffee. I really vowed never to return to the place down the street and I didn’t. Once I had Gaylord’s coffee, I was through with their (same priced as Gaylords) swill.
And then yesterday, while walking the dog back from the post office (apparently you can’t just put an address label on a dog and send her to Siberia), I ran into the Rhodes guy. I asked him how it was going. Not well. The cafe is losing money. He’s had his hours cut. They’re all in financial trouble. oh no! So, I’m about to head over to buy a soy chocolate milk which I may drink and I may accidentally spill in a planter on the way home.
Catholic guilt is a pain.

Published by

Charles Céleste Hutchins

Supercolliding since 2003

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