The Coffee Barista
There is a barista who usually takes my order faster than the others.
There is a Bridgehead in Ottawa I frequent. It’s a measly 5 minute walk away from my place although sometimes it turns into the slowest walk in the world when you’re not caffeinated in the dead of winter.
I like this shop because there is a giant table in the back that is usually available. My second desk.
The shop was build with high ceilings. High ceilings are important to me because it enhances creative thought, through something called the “cathedral effect”, but I can instantly put a hoodie on and lower my gaze to get into deep focus (Andrew Huberman has a podcast about this — click here).
There is a barista who usually takes my order faster than the others. He smiles and always asks “Good morning! How are you? Medium medium?” in his what I assume to be a pleasant Filipino accent. Most times I say yes and on “occasion” ask him to warm up their addictive, decadent, hedonistic, divine cheddar scones.
To have a stranger recognize me first thing in the morning is impactful.
He’s not a hero because he’s friendly, it’s the fact he remembers me and I can say almost nothing to get a cup of coffee. Regularity led to automation and now I can instantly enter flow state when I write.
With my ADHD, I’ll take any reduced friction to write more. That’s why The Coffee Barista is my hero. Without him, I don’t think I’d be writing the way I am now.
Word count: 248
Twitter: @bhavprajapati
