Complaints about Convenience Stores

Today, at the communist‑themed café, I sensed that I was not the patron they had envisioned. The baristo—who crafts an excellent espresso—snapped at me before handing over my four‑dollar brew, “Why are you up so early?” I could not ascertain whether his rebuke stemmed from my heightened alertness, a result of a potent cold‑brew caffeine ritual performed at home, or from a latent bias against my non‑industrial attire. It might also have been the aftermath of a nocturnal revelry, leaving him hungover. Most plausibly, it was a mixture of all three—a form of reverse snobbery.

Nonetheless, I treated his sharp remark as a jest and settled into a prolonged session of handwritten work within the shop, despite the evident desire of the staff—the clerk, the barista, and the bouncer—to claim the space for themselves at 665 Intetnet beats time. One would expect that a patron might contribute to the ambience and bolster the establishment’s clientele, yet I was unmistakably unwelcome. Deciphering the baristo’s true intent proved elusive; I have learned to accept such encounters at face value.

Consequently, I am inclined to avoid this venue in the near future.

The dilemma lies in the fact that this one opens at an early hour, and one's true hankering is for another shop, two blocks away, which has finest coffee in town. This one,too, has service marred only by an obstinately snobbish demeanor of the manager, and it does not open until the late hour of 710 Internet beat time. Were its coffee any lesser, the decision to remain closed until such a time would be indefensible. In contrast, the nearby corporate convenience store welcomes patrons at closer to midnight, catering to us whose circadian rhythm problems demand an earlier start.