Today’s short missive offers no help, it is an observation that I’m still unable to fathom. This morning I went to the recently opened Al Ain Mall extension to enjoy a coffee and read a book. Usually I am a very decisive person who knows exactly where to go. But today, albeit a bit bleary eyed after a night out on the beers, I got to the Mall unable to decide what coffee shop in which to tender my custom.
Stupidly I went to see the cheerful young lady behind the information counter and asked for a map. I still find it sad that Malls – or shopping centres where I come from – have to employ the finest cartographers in the land to produce a map that still fails to define north properly. Anyway I looked for the coffee shops and to my horror found myself overwhelmed with the variety. How many do you think there are, in just one Mall? Guess. No you’re way off. 26. There are 26 coffee shops in a very average sized Mall. How on earth can this be justified?
I dug deeper by asking the young lady – assuming that she was personally responsible for everything – why there were so many coffee shops? How was that good business? What was the point? Is demand that great? She had no answers for me and suggested that I make up my mind quickly so she could be left alone.
After much um-ing and ah-ing I deduced that I would go to Costa Coffee. I selected a normal American coffee, black with no sugar, as you should. I was then asked some silly questions like “do I want vanilla with that?” and “would you like a dandelion leaf in it?” No. No no no. I have already told you what I want so here is the money; I don’t want crap in it.
I sat down and began my reading. Every so often I lifted the stylish cup to my face for a gulp of warm, bitter grit until I could take no more. I left thoroughly disappointed that out of the 26 possibilities, I chose the one that left my tongue on the verge of suicide.
So, 25 more risks to take…bear with me tongue, bear with me.