Random Encounters
by: Alex Blackstone

The other day at work, an old man came into the store, grabbed a newspaper, nodded at me and just sat down. He did not order a drink or use the restroom. He just sat.

I thought nothing of it, as there was no one else in the store, it was about an hour before close, and I had a lot of cleaning to do before I could get out on time. I don't mind people loitering or just sitting in the lobby anyway, as long as they aren't making my job any harder. It was cold outside, and this dude was just chillin'. No biggie.

About five minutes after he sat down, he got up and walked up to the register. I followed suit and greeted him the same way that I greeted what seemed to be about five thousand other customers that day:

"Hey there, what can I get going' for you?"

He just sort of looked at me. Then his gaze shifted to the menu board. This is a fairly common occurrence, especially at places like Tully's. (You'd be surprised how many "coffee drinkers" don't actually know what they like.) I suggested some sort of promotional beverage to him, but he just shook his head and stuck out his hand. I shook it and he introduced himself. The problem was I didn't quite hear him because he was mumbling.

And that's when I realized that this man was deaf. I strained my ears and finally made out the name "Chris." I took me a minute to understand that he was asking to speak with a woman that I work with, who had already left that day. He smiled and went back to his seat, and I went back to work.

I sort of felt like an asshole because I couldn't understand him at first. I was a trying in earnest to communicate with him, but I do not know American Sign Language and have had very little experience communicating with the hearing impaired. He was probably as frustrated with me as I was with myself. I tried not to worry about it too much and concentrated on cleaning the goddamn ice cream machine when he came up to the register again, this time holding the newspaper.
He was speaking rather quickly and pointing at the paper, but again, I couldn't manage to understand him. I tried to keep my composure, but I'm positive that my face betrayed me. It was obvious to him that I was becoming more and more flustered, and more and more obvious to me that he was becoming angry. As his tone became more hostile, I found that I was better able to make out what he was trying to say to me. There was one thing that was perfectly clear to me:

"I'm sorry, I can't fucking hear."

At this point I'm close to tears. The lead barista is in the back doing money, I have little experience with these experiences, and I am trying my hardest to communicate and understand this person. I tried my hardest to be patient, but I'm just becoming upset. I flash a look at the woman that has just walked into the store, and I guess he sees my eyes go in her direction, because he turns to her and gestures at the paper. She looks at what he's pointing to, looks at me, and says,

"Time changes."

Of course, daylight savings.

"Yes," I say, "I'm excited. I get an extra hour of sleep tonight."

He smiles. Finally, I think as he steps aside and lets the woman place an order. She sighs, tells me she's sorry and asks if I'm okay. She asks about ten questions regarding the beverages and pastries, how many shots are in this and how much does that cost. I still don't know if she was doing that because she didn't really know or if she was someone from corporate quizzing me or if she was stalling so that I wouldn't become frustrated again.

She orders, pays, gets her drink and leaves. Almost without noticing her departure, Chris comes back to the register. I didn't even have time to feel relieved.
We follow the same procedure that we had before for about twenty minutes: he is trying to tell me something and I am trying desperately to understand. To an external, our attempt to communicate would have seemed pointless and futile. But
I was determined to find out what was so important to this guy.

Eventually he shows me the newspaper and it's like a light bulb goes off in my head. It's a map of the temperatures throughout the country estimated for the next day. He points to Texas.

"Down there, it's really hot."

Now I get it. "Yeah, way hotter than up here. It always rains here."

"Everyone complains, but I like it. I can't be in the heat."

"Mhmm, in cold weather, you can at least put on more clothes."

"In hot weather you wear almost nothing and still aren't comfortable."

"Yeah, I just love Seattle."

The conversation ended as abruptly as it started: he smiles, sticks out his hand. I shake it, and he leaves.

He never did buy anything.

Was he just as determined to communicate as I was, or was he bored? Spiteful?

Whatever the case, I won't forget him. Hell, I'll probably see him again.