Sorry...?

So. It's Sorry Day today, the 13th of February, 2008.

It seems saying "Sorry" is all the rage, so I guess that would be a good place to start – with an apology. I have completely forgotten about this blog. I'll be honest. I have spared no thought for the news-hungry readers of this blog (the numbers of which I can count on three fingers). For all the trauma I have caused these, my fellow Australians, for all the opinions and thoughts that were withheld from you, I am deeply sorry.

I have decided Kevin Rudd must know more about healthy relationships than I previously thought. Choosing the day before Hallmark Love Day as an annual day for apologizing was certainly more than coincidence. He realizes that being able to admit wrongdoing is key to any good relationship. I applaud the choice. From this day forward, Sorry Day shall be a day we can all commit whatever atrocities we like, providing we follow up with a formal apology, and flowers with chocolates the day after.

I envisage the Hallmark empire will begin production on Sorry Day gift cards, which have a returnable, reply-paid envelope included, wherein lies a fill-out form, with blank spaces for the recipient to write out the monetary amount you owe them in compensation. This is pure gold.

(Note to self – sell this idea to the card company. Scratch that. Give it to them for free. Four years later, sue them for all they have, demand compensation, then send my sympathies to them on a Hallmark Sorry Card.)

That about covers Sorry Day.

In other news...

This morning I felt unusually lacking in energy, so I visited the caffeine shrine that is Gosh Coffee in Box Hill Station. I go there for a Medium Cafe Mocha whenever I actually need to use my eyes at work that day, instead of spending the morning in a blind stupor. The staff there are always seemingly pleasant and chirpy. There are two ladies working there regularly who always have a welcoming smile, and take your order very politely.

But I have hit upon a snag with the service they provide. I have discovered that their sing-song greetings are only pre-programmed, sentence-deep habits. Everytime I respond to their friendly hellos ('Good morning, sir!', 'How are you today, sir?') with a friendly comment of my own ('Not bad, how are you doing?' 'Fine, thanks! What's good today?') I am met with complete, blank silence.

Not a word. Not until I tell them I require a medium-size Cafe Mocha ('No problem. That will be $3.85') do they respond.

Now to you, this may not seem to be a particularly note-worthy occurrence, but I can't tell you how disconcerting it is – when trying to break through the shallow veneer of hospitality and establish an ongoing rapport with the Coffee Ladies – to come up against a stone wall of impassive stares and awkward pauses.

It's like, if you're going to be cheery and friendly, FOLLOW THROUGH on your promises! Don't leave me hanging like that, Coffee Lady! And when you wish me a 'Good Morning', expect a reply! Accept my response graciously, instead of leaving me hanging like that.

What are you playing at, woman? Are you conducting sociological experiments with us, your customers? Is your brain so accustomed to only speaking in terms of Frappe, 'ccino, Grande, and Soy, that you are unable to hold other conversations any more?

If this behaviour continues, I will have no choice but to abandon my hopes of striking up a casual friendship between myself and these people I interact with daily. No one needs that kind of cold rejection that early in the morning.

I am sure in the big scheme of things, my discomfort matters little. But think how unpleasant it would be to be cut off from any conversation deeper than initial small-talk and shallow well-wishing! Has the art of the idle chit-chat and friendly banter been replaced by routine phrases and standardized servitude?


Obviously, I have blown things a little out of proportion. But a simple sorry would go a long way here, lady.


I need a mocha.



Joel
– "I'll have a regular latte with a side order of Good Ol' Fashioned hospitality, thankyou."