Day 102 - Stumbled into stereotypes

My neighborhood is ripe with stereotypes. I'm sure your city/village/shire is like that, as well. People who just fit too perfectly into a mold that sprouted from the surroundings. I crossed into two today.

In downtown San Francisco, there is a Starbucks every block. I am not exaggerating. Sometimes, there is even two on one block which leads me to conclude that when it comes to 25 feet, people are really tired or think themselves too busy. The first group is a band of legitimate coffee drinkers, armed with a very, very large coffee to get them through the first hour of the day. I commiserate - I am not a morning person. The second group, however, are just poseurs. These people are always off to VERY important meetings, catching a sec with the VP of Whatever, on conference calls through lunch. They only way they could possibly survive such a day, such a week, is to get a coffee. And only the expensive kind because, you know, they get such a nice salary for being so important, they can only have the expensive stuff.

I don't know where I'm going with this - I just got fired up by poseurs and lost all direction.

Anyways, I did go to Starbucks today. In all my time working from cafes, I have come to appreciate and prefer the smaller shops, for both the handcrafted coffee and the support of mom-and-pop establishments. There I was, walking around the Financial District with my Starbucks, like I belonged there. I did for many years, but no longer. A poseur of a different kind, I guess.

By the time I got off the bus in my neighborhood, I was feeling ready for a snack. I returned to my newly-discovered frozen yogurt shop at 4th-grader rush hour. Never have I seen such chaos and a gaggle of moms who could not care any less. Boys were climbing on ledges. Girls were undecided and trying to out-do each other with toppings. One enterprising young girl was trying to convince the cashier to add a few extra punches to her frequent buyer card. I buy my yogurt, give my sympathies and thanks to the cashier, and stroll down the road.

About a block into my walk, I realize I have now crept into another role so rampant in this area. My neighborhood is filled with young 20-something girls walking around in workout clothes eating fro-yo. They are never sitting eating, they are never in normal clothing, and they never use full words where they can help it. So I found the nearest stoop, sat down in my jeans, and ate my frozen yogurt with no hurry. No stereotype, no poseur, just me.