Practicalmadness

He has a head like a Roman senator, as if 'PATRICIAN' were tattooed on his brow. You know that he comes from money -- his brother owns the firm that owns the city's most upscale shopping center -- and yet he will try to cheat you if he could.

Your co-workers hate him, leading to an awkward confrontation over the matter of a stolen Wednesday newspaper. Not even the whole newspaper, actually, just the Sports section, just for the one article the Patrician wants to read. And yet, they know his drink, and start it as soon as he walks in the door, like all those regulars they do like.

Which, as if on cue, will have the whole staff whispering about how he used to try to trick us into just charging him for a refill, when we all know good and well that he just walked in, and you can't get refills on that drink anyway! And did you know that he's a millionaire? He's independently wealthy, but he's been kicked out of every Starbucks in town. Except this one.

And so, the Patrician keeps coming in every day. You, you make no judgements, for in your experience regulars are just ordinary customers at best and an unfortunate but steady revenue stream at worst. You handle them the same way you would any customer: with a smile, patience and quiet professionalism. You afford this regular the same courtesy you would anyone else -- when he walks in the door, if your hands are free, you start his drink, because that's just considerate. It's simply the least you can do.

It is clear to the Patrician that you are nicer to him than the others; it is clear to just about everyone who walks in that door that you are nicer than the others, and it's clear to you that the others don't give one flying bean. So when he strikes up a conversation, he asks what's up with the others. He suspects that you might just be the one barista who appreciates his business, which in turn just might validate his existence.

Because he loves Starbucks, you see. This man, who has been banned from all but this one of the five local stores, still loves Starbucks coffee, and needs his daily infusion to survive. So perhaps he sees in you someone in which he can confide his frustration at being treated like a criminal, just because he doesn't want to pay 35 cents to read one lousy article in a newspaper he was going to put back anyway.

Then, as you tell him about your background -- he doesn't know you, of course, as you are only a recent arrival at this particular coffee shop -- you are surprised to learn that this Patrician, as wealthy as you are poor who seemingly knows everyone, have a friend in common. It's nothing good or bad; you just move in very different social circles.

And for this you feel a bit like The Talented Mr. Demaree, and something you have long suspected is confirmed, kind of: that certain friends really had no excuse not to be geniuses, for their energies really didn't have anywhere else to go. It's nothing good or bad, really, although it does explain why the necessary long focus on the practical seems to have taken all the spark out of your madness. Your friend, by whose father you are sort of connected to this wacky old Patrician, had no such compunction.

The Patrician gives you certain details of the friend's current situation, and for a moment -- this is where the Ripley factor comes in -- you feel that here a connection has been made that outstrips the natural limit of your involvement with this friend, his father, the Patrician: you have strayed out of your class here, sir. And while we are currently giving you the benefit of the doubt, soon we will learn that this son of a friend of a Patrician doesn't even have you on his Friendster network. Knowing this, we will put you in your place.

Considering this makes you glad that you left your last encounter with the Friend on more or less good terms, as regardless of any connections you may wish to explore in the future with this friend, his father or this Patrician, the simple fact remains: you will see this man with the head like a Roman senator every single day, you are the only one who is nice to him, and now he feels like he knows you.

This will certainly make things awkward the next time I have to tell him to pay for his paper or get out.