It is 6AM. You walk into Starbucks after it has displaced all the other locally-owned cafes. The next closest cafe with wifi is 30 minutes away and opens two hours later. You need to sit down somewhere and work for a few hours.
A staffer who does not want to be there welcomes you cheerfully, positively. Overwhelmingly so. You'd mistake it for flirting if you didn't know better. They get fired if they don't get enough Connections. Their lips smile, but their eyes betray pain. You're doubly-sorry for your presence.
A speaker is placed directly above the the register. "Easy chair" by Yoav is blasting.
"HI, I'D LIKE A 12 OUNCE HOT COFFEE," you shout through your mask. Last time you ordered a "medium", they gave you a 16oz grande. You know it used to be called a "tall", they gave you a 20oz venti.
They ask something back, but you're a bit heard-of-hearing. It was one syllable, so you think they asked "WHAT?"
"I'D LIKE A 12 OUNCE HOT COFFEE," you say, miming a cup in your hand, drinking from it.
"NO," they respond. They weren't asking "WHAT?" The coffee maker is down, but you can get espresso, so you do. They ask your name, and you sign the letters as you spell it, hoping they'll pick up the message about how hard it is to hear.
You are given three tip options on your $4 drink: One dollar, two dollars, and three dollars. You pick $2, wincing about the implicit racism and classism in the tip price. A 50% tip, really? Is this a precedent you want to be part of setting?
Waiting for your espresso, you go to the restroom. Now "Luv is Not Enough" by "Miami Horror" is blasting from the other speaker, positioned directly above the doors.
You've been burned by the restroom before, so you've developed a three-part ritual.
First, you knock on the door and put your ear to it. No audible response.
Second, you turn the handle and crack the door. If someone were in here but quiet, they'd surely protest louder by now. No response.
Finally, you slowly open the door, and your wide eyes meet those of the beleaguered employee as they frantically scramble to close the door. They had Airpods in, but you hope they heard your sorry through that and the speaker and the quickly-closing door.
You repeat the ritual in the other restroom, this one thankfully empty. You finish up, wash your hands, and leave the restroom. But because the two restroom doors share a corner, you walk into the same employee you caught shitting earlier.
You apologize again as you both fail to navigate the corner.
It's now 6:15 AM, and there are seven beverages on the counter, three are hot. You grab yours, a 16-oz grande hot coffee with a misspelled name. I guess they fixed the coffee maker?
You do the math in your head. On average, about two or three innocent people in Gaza have been killed by Israel in these 15 minutes. The next closest cafe opens in 1 hour and 45 minutes. You put in noise-cancelling headphones before the next song starts on the speaker which is placed directly above the table you're on.