In which we celebrate Saturday Stories : a tale about coffee
I have posted a couple of stories about the Mulla Nasruddin, and this is another one of them. The trickster-hero of Turkey and Iran is reknowned for his foolish wisdom, his unusual appearance, and most especially for his appetite. That's how he ended up with the cookie recipe, after all.
And what could possibly go better with cookies than a nice cup of fresh-brewed Seattle coffee?
So it was, one day, that the Mulla Nasruddin came to visit the city of Seattle. And what did he see there? Rain, yes. Traffic, yes. But more than that: wherever he looked, Nasruddin saw coffee stands.
Early in the morning, Nasruddin went out to get a cup of coffee from one of the coffee stands. He stood patiently in the line, and when it came his turn, he placed his order: a tall skinny double latte.
The barista, she looked at him, this tall short skinny fat man with a fez on his head and a donkey following behind him, and she did what any self-respecting Seattle barista would do: she sneered. Then she grabbed a paper cup, filled it half full of black coffee, topped it up with half-and-half and handed it to Nasruddin. Then she charged him six bucks.
Nasruddin, he took the coffee. He sniffed the coffee. He sipped the coffee. "It's wonderful!" he said. He paid six dollars for the coffee...and into the tip jar he carefully placed a twenty dollar bill. And then he walked away.
Early the next morning, Nasruddin was again up early. The barista, she saw him coming. She waved him to the front of the line, and he placed his order: a tall, skinny double latte.
The barista did not sneer.
She ground the coffee beans. She steamed the milk. She prepared for Nasruddin an exquisite tall skinny double latte, with extra foam, a shaving of chocolate on the top and a little paper umbrella for a garnish.
Nasruddin, he took the coffee. He sniffed the coffee. He sipped the coffee. "It's wonderful!" he said. He paid six dollars for the coffee...and into the tip jar he carefully placed a dime. And then he turned to walk away.
The barista called after him. "Nasruddin," she said, "I cannot help but notice: yesterday, your tip, it was much bigger."
Nasruddin turned back and smiled at the barista. "Yes!" he told her happily. "Yesterday's tip was for today's coffee.
"Today's tip--that was for yesterday's coffee!"
And what could possibly go better with cookies than a nice cup of fresh-brewed Seattle coffee?
So it was, one day, that the Mulla Nasruddin came to visit the city of Seattle. And what did he see there? Rain, yes. Traffic, yes. But more than that: wherever he looked, Nasruddin saw coffee stands.
Early in the morning, Nasruddin went out to get a cup of coffee from one of the coffee stands. He stood patiently in the line, and when it came his turn, he placed his order: a tall skinny double latte.
The barista, she looked at him, this tall short skinny fat man with a fez on his head and a donkey following behind him, and she did what any self-respecting Seattle barista would do: she sneered. Then she grabbed a paper cup, filled it half full of black coffee, topped it up with half-and-half and handed it to Nasruddin. Then she charged him six bucks.
Nasruddin, he took the coffee. He sniffed the coffee. He sipped the coffee. "It's wonderful!" he said. He paid six dollars for the coffee...and into the tip jar he carefully placed a twenty dollar bill. And then he walked away.
Early the next morning, Nasruddin was again up early. The barista, she saw him coming. She waved him to the front of the line, and he placed his order: a tall, skinny double latte.
The barista did not sneer.
She ground the coffee beans. She steamed the milk. She prepared for Nasruddin an exquisite tall skinny double latte, with extra foam, a shaving of chocolate on the top and a little paper umbrella for a garnish.
Nasruddin, he took the coffee. He sniffed the coffee. He sipped the coffee. "It's wonderful!" he said. He paid six dollars for the coffee...and into the tip jar he carefully placed a dime. And then he turned to walk away.
The barista called after him. "Nasruddin," she said, "I cannot help but notice: yesterday, your tip, it was much bigger."
Nasruddin turned back and smiled at the barista. "Yes!" he told her happily. "Yesterday's tip was for today's coffee.
"Today's tip--that was for yesterday's coffee!"
That one made me smile, as I'm sipping my morning brew.
ReplyDeleteIt's too bad how many folks make snap judgments based on first impressions. It's nice that the Mulla chose not to retaliate, but to educate (okay, trick) the barista into doing her job as she should have in the first place...
ReplyDeleteEvenSong: Jim and I once did some storytelling at a meeting of a chamber of commerce, and we told this story. Years later, when we meet up with people in that group, this story is the one they talk about.
ReplyDeleteHmmmm!