"What would you like?"
"Yeah, I'll have a bagel with cream cheese and an 8oz medium coffee, please."
"Would you like your bagel toasted?"
"Yes, toasted."
The man steps to his left at the counter from in front of the bagel case.
"Do you want that to go?"
"Yes please."
"That'll be four seventeen."
"Four seventeen...," the man mutters to himself as he fishes from his wallet a five dollar bill and gives it to the female clerk.
The customer is waiting for his change fidgeting with coins he keeps in his wallet.
"Do you want your change?" the clerk asks as she at first is about to hand coins to him, but hesitates withdrawing her hand as she asks the man. It seems she withdraws her hand to the man customer as he looks up from his wallet at the clerk.
"Yes." He puts out his right hand, palms the change and puts it into his wallet. He notices that he has a taxi coupon in his wallet when he is assessing his change.
The clerk is slicing the bagel and places it in the toaster feed. She then tilts the spout of the coffee canister on the back wall counter adjacent to the toaster and fills an 8oz cup that she reached head high for on an above shelf. She places the cup of coffee at the front counter by the register in front of the customer.
"Does anybody here take taxis?" he asks the clerk behind the counter now squatting to the lower shelf on the back wall beneath the upper shelves of sweet drink juice bottles with spouts, cups, coffee canisters, toaster and supplies.
"Taxi? Do you want me to call you a taxi?"
"No. I have a coupon for a taxi. Does anybody here take taxis?" he asks the clerk behind the counter peering round to see the female manager with a clipboard by the drink cooler near the front counter where he stands. The man notices that the manager doesn't seem to take notice of him.
"I don't know. I'm not sure," she says still squatting behind the counter to the lower shelf looking up at him briefly.
"Well, do you take taxis?"
"No, but I have a friend who takes them. I'll give it to them," she says as she stands up and comes two paces to the front counter. The man hands her the business card coupon.
"Here you go."
He folds and puts his wallet into his left pocket stepping round to the side counter to wait for his bagel to toast. He waits for it to rotate through the toaster. The bagel slides the chute of the toaster. He notices it.
The clerk swoops up the bagel, cream cheese packets, a napkin and a plastic knife and puts it all in a white paper bag folding the top of the bag over once while handing the customer the bag.
"I don't need a bag," the man says as he is unfolding it to grab the bagel.
"But, the cream cheese is in there."
"You mean you didn't spread the cream cheese?" he asks as he looks in the bag.
"No."
"Will you spread the cream cheese?"
"No. We don't do that here. It holds up the line."
"Oh," the man says noticing no line. "Well, how am I going to spread the cream cheese?"
"There's a plastic spreader in the bag, but you can do it. Here, I'll give you the spreader."
The clerk steps towards the toaster counter and picks up a spreader, which is actually a stainless steel, dinner knife: the man notices as she hands the knife to him while he is unwrapping the tin foil around the bagel and peeling the cream cheese packet tops at the side counter.
"Here you go," the clerk says.
The customer places the knife on the unwrapped tin foil atop the bag on the side counter, finishes peeling the cream cheese packets, begins to spread the cream cheese and the manager walks up from the far end of behind the counter to beside the espresso machines where the man is spreading the cream cheese.
"You know, you just have to ask us to do that for you and we'll be happy to," the female manager says.
"Well, I asked her to, but she didn't want to do it," the man customer replies.
"Oh. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry," the manager says to him as he glances up at her from spreading the cream cheese on his bagel with the stainless steel spreader from a white plate on the back wall counter by the toaster.
"That's OK. I'll do it. I just don't want to do it in my truck. It's too dirty. I just can't. There's no place to do it."
"Oh. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."
"OK."
He spreads the cream cheese using both packets that were in the bag, places the refuse on the paper bag with plastic knife and napkins in it, puts the stainless steel knife on the paper bag and slides it an inch or two towards the manager standing behind the side counter who is watching him spread the cream cheese. He had re-wrapped the tin foil around the bagel on the bag.
"You know there's napkins in that bag? Do you want napkins?"
"I don't need napkins. I use my sleeve," he answers jokingly with the manager who looks perplexed by his reply, it seems to him.
The man picks up his cup of coffee and wrapped bagel turning away to walk the length of the long, narrow store with black, brown and orange trim, matching colored logo cup in hand, artistic renditions on walls, a high, ornate, painted white, tin ceiling, bay window to the street outside and a heavy, old fashioned, window door.
The door creaks to the right of the bay window alcove with seats where a fair looking woman in a florid, shin length skirt, grey t-shirt, cotton vest and sandals sits cross legged reading, the man customer notices peering and as he pulls the door towards him, opening it with cup and tin-foil-wrapped-bagel adjusted to hold in his left hand.
He exits to a busy street on a temperate day in summer.
"Would you like your bagel toasted?"
"Yes, toasted."
The man steps to his left at the counter from in front of the bagel case.
"Do you want that to go?"
"Yes please."
"That'll be four seventeen."
"Four seventeen...," the man mutters to himself as he fishes from his wallet a five dollar bill and gives it to the female clerk.
The customer is waiting for his change fidgeting with coins he keeps in his wallet.
"Do you want your change?" the clerk asks as she at first is about to hand coins to him, but hesitates withdrawing her hand as she asks the man. It seems she withdraws her hand to the man customer as he looks up from his wallet at the clerk.
"Yes." He puts out his right hand, palms the change and puts it into his wallet. He notices that he has a taxi coupon in his wallet when he is assessing his change.
The clerk is slicing the bagel and places it in the toaster feed. She then tilts the spout of the coffee canister on the back wall counter adjacent to the toaster and fills an 8oz cup that she reached head high for on an above shelf. She places the cup of coffee at the front counter by the register in front of the customer.
"Does anybody here take taxis?" he asks the clerk behind the counter now squatting to the lower shelf on the back wall beneath the upper shelves of sweet drink juice bottles with spouts, cups, coffee canisters, toaster and supplies.
"Taxi? Do you want me to call you a taxi?"
"No. I have a coupon for a taxi. Does anybody here take taxis?" he asks the clerk behind the counter peering round to see the female manager with a clipboard by the drink cooler near the front counter where he stands. The man notices that the manager doesn't seem to take notice of him.
"I don't know. I'm not sure," she says still squatting behind the counter to the lower shelf looking up at him briefly.
"Well, do you take taxis?"
"No, but I have a friend who takes them. I'll give it to them," she says as she stands up and comes two paces to the front counter. The man hands her the business card coupon.
"Here you go."
He folds and puts his wallet into his left pocket stepping round to the side counter to wait for his bagel to toast. He waits for it to rotate through the toaster. The bagel slides the chute of the toaster. He notices it.
The clerk swoops up the bagel, cream cheese packets, a napkin and a plastic knife and puts it all in a white paper bag folding the top of the bag over once while handing the customer the bag.
"I don't need a bag," the man says as he is unfolding it to grab the bagel.
"But, the cream cheese is in there."
"You mean you didn't spread the cream cheese?" he asks as he looks in the bag.
"No."
"Will you spread the cream cheese?"
"No. We don't do that here. It holds up the line."
"Oh," the man says noticing no line. "Well, how am I going to spread the cream cheese?"
"There's a plastic spreader in the bag, but you can do it. Here, I'll give you the spreader."
The clerk steps towards the toaster counter and picks up a spreader, which is actually a stainless steel, dinner knife: the man notices as she hands the knife to him while he is unwrapping the tin foil around the bagel and peeling the cream cheese packet tops at the side counter.
"Here you go," the clerk says.
The customer places the knife on the unwrapped tin foil atop the bag on the side counter, finishes peeling the cream cheese packets, begins to spread the cream cheese and the manager walks up from the far end of behind the counter to beside the espresso machines where the man is spreading the cream cheese.
"You know, you just have to ask us to do that for you and we'll be happy to," the female manager says.
"Well, I asked her to, but she didn't want to do it," the man customer replies.
"Oh. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry," the manager says to him as he glances up at her from spreading the cream cheese on his bagel with the stainless steel spreader from a white plate on the back wall counter by the toaster.
"That's OK. I'll do it. I just don't want to do it in my truck. It's too dirty. I just can't. There's no place to do it."
"Oh. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."
"OK."
He spreads the cream cheese using both packets that were in the bag, places the refuse on the paper bag with plastic knife and napkins in it, puts the stainless steel knife on the paper bag and slides it an inch or two towards the manager standing behind the side counter who is watching him spread the cream cheese. He had re-wrapped the tin foil around the bagel on the bag.
"You know there's napkins in that bag? Do you want napkins?"
"I don't need napkins. I use my sleeve," he answers jokingly with the manager who looks perplexed by his reply, it seems to him.
The man picks up his cup of coffee and wrapped bagel turning away to walk the length of the long, narrow store with black, brown and orange trim, matching colored logo cup in hand, artistic renditions on walls, a high, ornate, painted white, tin ceiling, bay window to the street outside and a heavy, old fashioned, window door.
The door creaks to the right of the bay window alcove with seats where a fair looking woman in a florid, shin length skirt, grey t-shirt, cotton vest and sandals sits cross legged reading, the man customer notices peering and as he pulls the door towards him, opening it with cup and tin-foil-wrapped-bagel adjusted to hold in his left hand.
He exits to a busy street on a temperate day in summer.
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