In a Word. . . choice

Noting is simple any more. Going for a cup of coffee nowadays can involve more questions than on University Challenge. Recently, while queuing in a Dublin city cafe I saw ahead of me a harmless little old lady.

Hard to think then that within minutes she would inspire murder in those of us behind her. She couldn’t make up her mind.

She didn’t know whether she wanted tea or coffee, and that was the easy part.

On offer was Irish Breakfast Tea, Irish Afternoon Tea, Darjeeling, Earl Grey, Cafe Blend, Keemun, Lapsang, or Broken Orange Pekoe. Then there were the coffees, Kenya, Java, Colombian, Cafe Blend, espresso, cappuccino, decaffeinated. And hot chocolate.

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The elderly woman was paralysed by indecision. She didn’t know what to ask for while acutely aware of us behind her. She stood silent, humiliation staring her in the face.

But it was the barista behind the counter – a mug in one hand and a J-cloth in the other – who cast a cold eye on this elderly, indecisive Hamlette before her.

“Tea of coffee?” she demanded. The old lady blurted “coffee, coffee”. You could sense she dreaded the next “which one?” question. It didn’t come.

“Mug or cup?” asked the girl, which startled the old lady, probably wondering what to answer if asked which coffee. “Ah, a cup would be grand,” she said.

“White or black?” continued the interrogation. “Black’ll be fine,” was the reply.

She got her coffee and wended a weary way to the cash register, as if anticipating further hurdles ahead.

A waitress took her tray and asked if she would like sugar. “Yes”, the old lady said. “Brown or white?” wondered the girl. “Ah . . . white” responded the by now thoroughly fed-up woman.

And the waitress began to escort her to a seat. “Smoking or non-smoking?” she asked. The old woman just stared at her. “Do you want to sit in a smoking area or a non-smoking area?” asked the waitress.

“Look, I don’t care love. All I wanted was a cup of coffee and a bit of peace and quiet. I’ll sit anywhere,” replied the old lady irritably, “anywhere there’s place”. And she did.

So much exhausting, trivial choice. It’s everywhere.

Choice, from Old English ceosan, to choose, taste, try.

inaword@irishtimes.com