The "Overheard In..." category for the blog recalls snippets of conversation I happened to stumble across that for some reason stand out as indicative of cultural differences, or cultural issues I'm trying to understand. (And all subtly prove that reality is stranger than fiction.)
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The Setting:
Costa Coffee (a decently sized chain in London-- also decent coffee, as it happens) a few blocks from my house, on the high street. The scene took place while waiting in line to place an order, around 2pm on a weekday.
The Characters:
(1) A 60-something posh English woman, very well-put together and proper looking, dyed blondish hair, an insanely huge diamond ring on her finger, a face perfectly done up and which looks like it may have had a facelift... She is first in line to order (2) a young American woman in front of me (behind the English woman), in gym clothing-- oversized t-shirt and sweats, no makeup, hair in a pony tail, a bit flushed from her workout; (3) A North African (I think?) employee of Costa Coffee, tallish, short curly dark hair, wearing a Costa Coffee Uniform. (4) me.
The Scene :
North African Coffee Guy: (to the English woman who is first in line)
Hi yuh. (thick foreign accent.)
Posh woman: (clipped accent)
Yes, I'd like a hot chocolate please.
Coffee Guy:
Sorry? (Pause) Sorry, could you...
Posh woman: (Annoyed tone. But she also appears to be slightly hard of hearing)
Wh... What? I said a hot chocolate please.
Coffee Guy:
Meee- dium? Meee-dium, yes, it's okay? (He proceeds to take quite some time to try to input this order into the computer. He's fiddling with different keys on the keypad.)
Sorry. I... (mumbles something indecipherable. I gather he's just started to work there. Finally he succeeds in punching the right button.)
...Dats Two-fouh-ey. (or similar sum, I don't remember exactly.)
Posh woman:
What?
Coffee Guy:
Two-fouh-ey.
Posh woman:
That's ridiculous.
(She fumbles through her[nice, expensive, designer] purse to get change. The huge rock on her finger is flagrantly noticeable, unable to be ignored. She reluctantly puts the money on the counter-- but does so with a bit too much force. I hadn't really been paying attention, but now I do. While the coffee guy is making her drink, the posh woman turns to the young American woman in front of me.)
Posh woman:
They're all coming here, people like him. And they don't even know what they're doing. They can't even communicate properly. They don't speak our language.
American woman:
Oh, he' s just started. Give him a few weeks and come back and I'm sure he'll be perfect.
Posh woman:
They shouldn't allow people like that to work here.
American woman: (polite, measured tone)
Well, maybe you should talk to your government because they won't let *me* work here. And I do speak your language. We're all strangers at some point. It's not easy.
(Coffee guy is getting change for Posh woman. The American woman turns to me.)
American woman: (softly, incredulous.)
Did you hear all of that conversation?
Me: (nodding, also incredulous)
Yes. Unbelievable.
(The posh woman walks over to the other side of the counter where the coffee guy is finishing the hot chocolate.)
Posh woman: (agressively.)
It needs to be hot. You need to make it hot. (Pause.) Did you hear me?
(He nods. He sets the drink on a tray for her.)
Posh woman:
Is it hot? Did you make it hot?
(He nods, again. If it had been me I would have wanted to punch her in the face, but he simply demurred. She takes the mug away, shaking her head in disgust.)
Friday, 11 January 2008
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