I woke up to another beautiful day in Cambridge, England and was in search of some coffee and food. If you have not been to Cambridge then let me tell you there is an endless supply of coffee shops, cafes, restaurants and pubs so picking one is simply by random.
After a few minutes my hunger and caffeine addiction was getting the better of me so I walked into the closest cafe with food and a cappuccino maker. Empty and quaint, the cafe bore hard wood floors, a few black and white pictures on a congested wall, a cluster of tall tables and chairs and just three comfortable chairs in the corner. I wanted to read and enjoy the atmosphere so I planted myself in one of the comfortable chairs.
As time went on people entered and departed, some stayed to enjoy a latte or a cappuccino, and some took their jolt for “take away” along with a sandwich or pastry. I kept reading.
Eventually lunch time struck the day and the people coming and going became more persistent. That’s when one of the cafe’s employees approached me, and with a proper English accent spoke into my left ear, “Could you share the table? It’s our busiest time of day and a few customers have walked out because the table wasn’t available for them to use.”
His comment caught me off guard and I wanted to walk out. It wasn’t my table; anyone could have shared it with me if they just asked. I had my bags and camera sitting in the chair next to me and I would have gladly put them on the floor to let someone sit there. It wasn’t my space to hoard for myself; I just wanted to sit in a comfortable chair, drink some coffee and read. Why did he feel the need to tell me that his customers were walking out?
Thinking about leaving I gathered my bags, put them on the floor and moved to the chair directly in the corner so people wouldn’t have to step over me to sit down. Soon enough young lady sat down in the chair next to me to enjoy her bowl of soup and baguette. I read some more.
When I looked up to scan the cafe in search of people looking for a spot to attack lunch I noticed that the cafe was getting crowded and I didn’t want to deprive anyone else of their mid-day meal. I left immediately.
As I walked back to my hotel I couldn’t help but analyze the situation. Was I being rude for getting comfortable? Was it my fault that his customers walked out? Was he out of line, after all I was a customer too? There is no right answer here, but one thing is for sure; I will never go back.
Here are a few images that I took on the way back to the hotel. It made me stop analyzing what just happened.
One response to “Was he asking me to leave? ~ March 5, 2009 ~ Personal”
To think that he could have had a wonderful photographer as a regular customer. His loss.