When You Ponder the Meaning of Life After a Bad Coffee Outing

One morning, I decided to take my children to a local coffee shop, a standard quick outing, yet I did not expect the mini life-lessons this time around…

As we walked into the shop, which was part of a well-known franchise, my initial thoughts went something like: I’ll take a nice snap of my boys with their dessert in a picturersque caffeine-culture moment. I could even stick it on my instagram feed — the mumsy writer trying to tackle school holidays…

In reality, the two-year-old refused to stay in his stroller, and he didn’t fit in the high chair either, and because he wouldn’t sit still on a normal dining chair, my knee was the only spot that could accommodate him. The nine-year-old was getting stroppy because he had to share his banana bread, and both of them weren’t happy with the look of the fruit platter.

And neither was I. It looked old and tired. I should have taken a closer look through the fridge window. We ate what we could, and then for some silly reason I asked for a container to take the rest home. The kids decided their caffeine-culture experience was over before I’d even touched my coffee. And then there was a matter of urgency because the nine-year-old had to go to the toilet.

Instagram moment long gone.

My coffee wasn’t nice either. It was cold, and the crema was a shabby effort; the froth was like an after-thought.

I’d heard that this coffee chain had been on the decline for a while — that it wasn’t what it used to be. I was in denial because I’ve been a loyal customer for years, gravitating to many of its stores around Adelaide. I had to finally accept the truth of what it had become: its glory days were over.

This shop was practically screaming for another owner to come in and take away its business. The franchise name may appear to be solid, but, you know, walls break down eventually...

As we were leaving, I got the take-away container for the fruit, and putting myself in the cafe` owner’s shoes, I decided to tell the staff member that I was not impressed with the quality of the fruit.

“Would you like a refund?” she asked before I’d gotten all my words out. It seemed that my concern did not surprise her. This alone was concerning. I was kind, and spoke in a casual tone, telling her that it wasn’t about the money — but that it wasn’t fair to “put out sad-looking food like that.” Her smile was empathetic. Her expression indicated that she wouldn’t have eaten it either.

This got me thinking about how business owners are able to trust that their employees care enough. Did this particular owner think that the business was invincible because of the weight of the name? Does brand have that much power?

Meanwhile, I was still disappointed that I’d paid to eat crappy fruit and that I’d given it to my kids. Walking to my car, I told my nine-year-old about the feedback that I’d given to the cafe` — and that it was important to speak up in life.

As a mum, I try to present my beliefs so that they are not biased or said in a way that I am instilling fear; I leave it open so that my kids can make of it what they want. On a good day. (It is not to say that when I am less patient, my “advice” comes out like a verbal stream of consciousness littered with curse words.)

I debated revealing the name of the cafe` in this piece. It’s not my job to expose them on social media — not for something like this anyway. The staff member that I’d had the exchange with has been given the opportunity to relay the feedback. I highly doubt my feedback was the first complaint. If owners are turning a blind eye to what’s going on in their shop, then they need to almost welcome the fate of their business.

Aside from the obvious idea that one should always avoid eating fuzzy-looking fruit, my first life-lesson reminder was: if what you’re putting out is not your best work, and you don’t want to be held accountable for it, then don’t put it out at all. Fruit platters, or artwork, it’s the same principle.

Secondly, all good things really do come to an end. The best way to deal with it is to accept it, be grateful for the experience, let it go, and then be open to the next good thing.

This bad coffee episode also reminded me about having the courage to speak up in life, especially if one’s primary aim is to be helpful — you’ll never know the true worth of your help until you speak up. (Sometimes, you don’t find out about its impact, but you can still trust that you did a good thing.)

The last point I made to my nine-year-old was that when speaking up, you cannot go wrong if your words come from a place of love. When you mean well and your intentions are good, you’re emitting a positive karmic energy.

I did not expect that this poor coffee outing would cause me to reflect on life, business, relationships and parenting. I somewhat appreciated that the low-light of the day manifested in random advice to my son, which was much more important to me than my instagram reel.