I grabbed a beer a couple nights ago with a couple of my barista buddies. We settled in over at the Brewhouse Cafe in Little Five Points mostly because they have Fat Tire on draft, and that sounded like a good idea. What was a warm Georgia evening turned into a pleasant night on the patio looking out as the city drove by. We talked about how the world began, and whether or not we would want to be sent into an Assisted Living situation in our old age. Conversations are best when you can talk about serious matters, political and religious rambles, and still want to keep drinking together. And they know I’m a churchgoer…
We’re all at different phases in our lives. Rob’s settling down with his wife, which is a beautiful thing. He mentions his desire to pickle his jalapeno peppers and how extensive the process is. Adam’s excited about the thought of attending his ten year reunion soon. He biked to meet us. That’s what he does. And I guess if one were to drink too much, it’s a lot less dangerous of a ride home. I scootered of course, which is categorical of an urban hipster if that’s the box you might want to put me in. But, it’s a year old and baby blue, so it’s not nearly as dirty as the PBR-drinking, mustache-sporting, tight jean-wearing folk you might want to associate me with.
We weren’t as interested in associations as we were just catching up and having a good time. I’ve been in China for a few weeks, and I realized how much I enjoyed my job while I was gone. So after awhile, we inevitably got to talking about San Fran. Was there anything I missed? a story here, a joke there, etc. But we were all willing to admit how lucky we felt. It’s a unique thing to be able to go almost anywhere in Atlanta and see someone you know. Sometimes we don’t remember customers names (which I regret), but we do remember their story, as much as we’ve come to know.
And even though we might all be at different places in our lives, we share something in common. We are human, sharing in the same sort of daily struggle and grind, laughing or crying. But even more than that, we love our jobs because we love people. And that’s what we have in common.It’s not because of the coffee, and certainly not because of the early opening. It’s the variety and familiarity of faces we get to see and know from all over this sprawling city.