This morning at 6:30, I was sitting in our local Starbucks, staring at a bunch of hipsters. Lots of movie director and music producer look-a-like types. Lots of black clothes, salt and pepper hair and little horizontal glasses, ordering Ventis and Grandes and Double Mocha Somethingorothers. I heard someone yell, “And a shot of espresso!” Why was he yelling so early in the morning? To be heard over the cool jazz?
Where were those people from? This is not Hollywood. It’s the Heartland, for God’s sake. Must be a pocket of hip. And I was sticking out like a sore thumb, wearing sneakers, capri jeans, a white sweatshirt and my hair in a ponytail. And I was drinking a small black coffee. I even said when I ordered, “A small black coffee.” Not, “A tall black coffee.”
Totally unhip.
But, still a rebel.
Yesterday, I sat next to two businessmen, both in suits and ties -- not particularly hip -- meeting to discuss and plan an upcoming sales meeting.
“I’ve blocked off 20 hotel rooms. Cool?”
“Cool.”
“Ed will wrap the session up with a forecast of sales. Cool?”
“Cool.”
“I need a another Double Mocho Somethingorother. Cool?”
“Cool. Order mine with a shot of espresso!”
The outwardly unhip are still trying to embrace their inner cool, I suppose.
I’ve been at Starbucks too much this week. Our cable at home is on the fritz. Which means I don’t have an Internet connection.
So. Totally. Uncool.
I cannot even begin to start to explain how completely and totally uncool that has been. Not having email makes communicating with my clients tough. I’ve actually had to call a few of them. I’ve had to listen to their words.
“Hey. Just wanted to let you know I’ll be emailing you that pdf file around noon.”
“Cool beans, blue girl!”
Cool beans? She must’ve been in some generic cubicle somewhere! No one in a pocket of hip, not even two 50 something businessmen in suits embracing their inner cool, would ever say cool beans. She can look hip, though. I’ve met her in person. She wears really cool, horizontal glasses.
It’s been quite a week. Work, work, work at home. Run, run, run to Starbucks, email clients. And then run, run, run back home again. I would’ve just written:
Work at home then run to Starbucks, then run back home again.
But, I’ve been drinking Starbucks coffee all day long for a week. One works, works, works, and run, run, runs after so much caffeine while wearing sneakers.
Mike the Cable Guy just left my house. Carrying a million cords and some rather serious looking diagnostic equipment, he wore Wranglers and a Time-Warner golf shirt. His hair was plain old light brown, brushed straight back. And when he stepped into my foyer, he slipped on a pair of blue plastic booties over his construction boots.
He was the coolest guy I had seen all week.
After checking this and checking that, unplugging this and unplugging that, the send and receive lights were flashing away on my new awesome, super groovy, totally kick ass turbo modem.
The first thing I did was email my client a pdf with the changes she’s been waiting for.
“Thanks, BG! This looks great! I’ll let you know when it’s approved.”
“Cool beans!”
And I meant every word of it.
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