Chapter 2 – The Setting

“What matters more; what a speaker means or how the hearer understands?”
“Well surely it must be the speaker, or else what is original intent?”
“But if those words are misunderstood, and then restated incorrectly, what good is original
intent?”
“I see what you mean, so it is the hearer who is more important.”
“But then would the world not be merely the interpretations of hearers, or observers, making
objective truth obsolete?”
“Well, that seems to be the truth nowadays.”
“Really now? Who won the game last night?”
“I get what you mean. There still is objective truth, like someone won and lost, no matter how
people spin it.”
“But could a political spin doctor make a defeat seem like a victory?”
“Not in a game. Not with thousands, millions perhaps watching the score. Not with Vegas
gamblers putting millions of dollars behind the winner or loser of the game. When there is money
involved, there will always be a truth decided.”
“Very true. But in real life, the score is not so easy to see, and the money even harder.”
“Great. So, in the real world, who is more important? The speaker or the hearer? Because
from your words, I cannot tell.”
“My friend, the speaker creates and tells his message. Without this, there is nothing to say. But
the hearer interprets, without that the speaker's words have no power. They are both important for
without the actions of both sides, knowledge cannot be added to the world.”
“But words can be misunderstood. The speaker’s wisdom could be lost on deaf ears or a mind
that will only hear what it wishes. Intent is meaningless when listeners only wish seek justification.”
“Yes, that is very true. And that gives us what we have today.”
“Which is?”
“An utter mess.”
This was a random conversation overheard in a random, overpriced, craft, coffee shop in any
gentrified part of any city on our planet. Feel free to add in adjectives to taste (local and artisanal are
my personal favorites).
But this reminded me of another line heard in a similar shop. The only thing more dangerous
than a bad cause is an undefined good one.
That’s a good line. Sometimes I think it’s worth all the overpriced coffee I’ve downed in the
past decade just to hear bits of wisdom like that one. But to really get the story, you as the reader
probably would like some context.
I’d say look out the window and find the nearest place, but that assumes that you’re in a major
metropolitan area. I will try not to let my own inherent biases take over.
So picture a coffee shop. Not a Starbucks, I’m talking about the fancy place I talked about
before. You know, where they throw about useless adjectives to make their coffee seem cooler. Their
name probably is some cool sounding name that the owner made up while taking a toke or high on an
ayahuasca bender. Or at least it’ll make just as much sense. It’s most definitely not phonetically
correct, or has some color plus a boring object in it that makes it seem like some sort of minimalistic
cool.
And that’s the name. Once you get inside, the seating, if there’s seating will be minimal
compared to the counter. Sitting on that, there’s probably a few things that you haven’t seen since
Chem 101. The espresso maker is probably a big, fancy, Italian one by La Marzocco or Cimballi and
the only thing in the shop that looks high tech. If they had money, the machine might even be built into
the counter.
 But not by the workers. I mean, the barista looks like he or she moonlights as the bass player
for a band that’s always one big break away. Or maybe they’re back from a trip abroad, or in the
middle of a soul-searching trek across our country and this will buy a covered cot and something more
than the special at Waffle House. There might the owner as well, who might be indistinguishable from
the barista guy or girl, or could be some 35-50 year old hedge fund/I banking manager who’s so utterly
bored at spending his lift in front of a Bloomberg terminal and ignoring any investment in relationships
or a family that he’s hoping that this might bring in some people that could serve as a replacement
pseudo family.
I say he because I’ve never seen a woman do this. Guys, on the other hand….
Oh yeah, you can tell if the room was designed by one of these guys. Look at the tables. No
tables? Fine, stools and that counter thing drilled into the wall with some parts from Home Depot.
That’s laziness masquerading as minimalism. True minimalism includes some cheerful colors and
creative use of plants that’ll look good on social media. And for those, the favorite color is Instagram
Blue. What color is Instagram blue? Look up brunch, take a look at a few posts, and you’ll get it.
Now, if I look around the tables, who do I see sitting there?
One girl’s arranging her coffee and whole grain scone around some free magazine she picked
off the ad rack. In a minute, she’ll take her Instagram shot and post about her day. I bet she’ll leave out
the part about cold coffee. She looks like she could be a Lululemon ad. Not just because she looks sort
of like the girls in the ads, but also because everything she’s wearing is from Lululemon.
There’s an older fellow sitting alone with a newspaper. I think the newspaper itself signals his
age, but the paper might have been left there by someone else. He’s probably got more stories than I
have time, but this is my book, not his. And he’s probably lived some. At this point in his days, he’s
earned the right to be lazy in a coffee shop and enjoy his mornings. He’s probably also used to having
his coffee black, but the barista’s been able to talk him into expanding his horizons.
Another person’s hidden behind their Macbook with notes and piles of napkins. There’s
probably an extension cord feeding off free electricity. You might be able to tell if it’s a guy or a girl,
but you’d first have to look around the laptop, and then under that beanie or baseball cap. You’ve got
time though. This dude’s not going anywhere soon. And I use dude in the non-gender specific term
dude. Oh, he just stood up, and it’s a guy. And he’s getting another croissant, or donut, or something
like that.
Then there’s a couple. Not necessarily a guy and a girl, not necessarily in any romantic
relationship. Just two people breaking the silence with their conversation. You know you shouldn’t
eavesdrop, but it’s not like there’s anything else to listen to. You might not even know what they look
like because if you look too long, they’ll stop talking and wonder who’s staring at them.
So where am I?
Look in the corner.
Look again. You see that guy with the headphones tapping on his phone? The one who’s
lingering for a minute before heading back to the office? Is that me?
Or maybe that lady, looking all put together in the business suit. You’d look at her more, but at
some level you know there’s something more you’d rather do. Maybe this is her inner monologue?
Or maybe that girl, holding a to-go cup in one hand while she taps out a few more texts on a
smartphone bigger than her purse. Or maybe she’s typing out her thoughts for a book on conversations
heard in a coffee shop.
Or maybe I’m just some random person with a backpack that looks so at home in this shop that
I might as well be furniture?
Maybe I’m one of these people, hiding in plain sight. Every bit as invisible as a Japanese
tourist, or Chinese... all look same .com. You could probably pass me by and never pay me a lick of
attention.
That’s cool, I’m probably ignoring you too.
 Or maybe you should look in a mirror. Maybe I’m you.

But we can worry about existential crises later. For now, we can focus on our phones while
pretending not to listen in.