2005-02-27 - 11:43 a.m.

So I used to work in this mom & pop coffee shop back in Cary when I was in high school (and partially into college).

Diagonally (or kitty corner if you're one of "those" people) situated from the chicago bound trains, the coffee shop was frequented in the morning by commuters of all sorts. Your typical JCPenny suits heading off to sell insurance or type mindlessly in a cube, secretarial women dressed in flowing floral print blouses, and the random fresh out of college guy mixing express dress pants with pierced ears.

Working the early shift (opening around 5:30am) meant arriving at 5:00am to find a group already clammoring at the front door like a bunch of junkies begging for their fix...

You'd sneak to the backdoor, hoping no one saw you, slide the old metal key into the rusty lock, looking over your shoulder as if you were some burglar...

The door would creak open and the aroma of coffee, fresh baked cookies and muffins and some unidentifiable comfort smell (something like your grandma's house mixed with your favorite jacket) would slam into your face, cuddling with you and relaxing the early morning jitters. Working in the dark, so as not to alert the masses outside, you'd start up "el gigante" the six pot coffee maker and get the flavors of the day posted on the boards. Milk, cream and other products would be retreived from the always-packed-too-capacity refridgerator. Somedays the door would open and you'd find yourself buried in an avalanche of cinnamon rolls and banana raspberry muffins.

After the morning rounds were made and the store had been roused and ready to receive the commuters, you'd slap the neon open light switch and make your way to the front door. Steaming up the glass door, you'd greet the contorted faces pushing to be the first into their coffee haven.

Back on the other side of the bar, you'd spend the first 3 hours of the day racing up and down the bar fulfilling orders that almost always began with "My train leaves in 5 minutes..."

Large house blend leave room for sugar, double cappuchino shot of hazlenut, cafe americano...

Around 10 am the commuter crowd would trickle off and slowly the coffee shop would morph into a soccer mom meetting ground. Middle age women, done with dropping their kids off at school, but not quite ready to tackle bed bath & beyond would trudge in, wearing overdone lipstick smiles. They'd ask about school, sports, love, etc... drink their double cafe mocha's with extra whip cream and shop the knick knacks and chirstmas ornaments forever on display on the walls.

Lunch time would roll around and somehow you'd find time to pick apart a muffin or if you're lucky a turkey bagel. The special would be made for the day and if it was something stellar like spinach quiche or lasgana, then you wouldn't have to worry about making sandwhiches in the deli all afternoon.

The afternoon saw a welcome combination of old men reading the paper with knitted brows, middle school kids set loose and allowed to roam dowtown freely like ghouls or some kind of mischievous spirits, and the inevitable return of the soccer moms waiting out the hour and a half of soccer practice.

Finally 6:45 would roll around. The vacuming and sweeping would start, pausing periodically when a customer burst through the door to squeeze the last drop of caffeinie out of the veins of the store. Poised at the door, watching the clock count down the seconds, one flick of the wrist would lock the door at precisely 7pm...

And then you were free...

Liz is this sarcastic old woman that works more hours at the coffee station than anyone else. I'd guestimate she's worked there for prolly over a decade now...maybe even 15 years or so. She bakes all the cookies, all the muffins, and can name 99% of the people who come through the door, tell you their occupation, their kids names, their favorite drinks, etc...

She's rough on the edges, raised 4 kids, oozes sass, and is as sharp witted as she is sharp tounged. she can verbally spar with any of the men or women who come through the door looking for a good debate... and she can comfort even the most despondent employee who may have lost his high school sweetheart...

She makes quick, strong drinks, slings her homade cookies like frisbees at the kids, and always, ALWAYS smiles.

Last week she was serving what was prolly her 2 millionth regular blend coffee (leave room for cream and sugar). She placed the coffee on the counter, and instead of requesting the $1.35, she said instead, "My neck hurts..."

10 seconds later she was curled up on the floor, blowing bubbles, completely unconscious.

An aneurysm had burst in her brain causing her to slip into a coma. She laid on the back floor while the owners dialed 911 and tried to comfort her as best as they could. No previous health issues, no indication that anything was wrong, she was just doing the same thing she'd done a million times.

I imagine that in her mind, she hasn't skipped a beat. She probably said "My neck hurts... but I'll be ok." She's still slinging cookies and bouncing muffins at the brats, still scoooping ice cream and putting together Village Pump sandwiches, still giggling with the regulars...

I'm sorry Liz. Wake up. There's so much work still left to be done.

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