Espresso Yourself Quietly, Please
Man’s Emotional TED Talk Hijacks Everyone’s Sanity
Picture this… a tranquil cafe, the kind with rustic wooden tables, hipster lighting, and a strong aroma of overpriced bacon baps coming from the kitchen. The comforting hum of productivity surrounded us; people silently typing away, pretending their lives depended on spreadsheet formulas, or performing digital CPR on their Facebook likes. An oasis of calm, caffeine, and passive-aggressive glances.
Then he arrived.
Announced not by words, but by a chair dragged across the wooden floor like nails on a chalkboard. An entrance so grating it could’ve summoned ghosts. Mid-to-late 40s, clearly proud of his tight jeans which clung to his groin like an overenthusiastic teenager. Unshaven, unbothered, and utterly unaware of the social contract that governs shared public spaces. He plonked himself down, sighed and then immediately began rearranging the furniture like a man staging a one-man play no one had asked him to perform.
We all looked up. Not directly, of course, we’re British, or at least trained in British disdain. Just subtle side-eyes over laptop screens and coffee rims, the café version of turning up the volume with your mind.
Enter her. Short, round and positively wheezing as she waddled in. She looked like an Evelyn. Everyone looks like their name. She wore a flowery dress that was less “boho chic” and more “free spirit meets laundry day.” Her legs, gloriously unshaven and basking in natural rebellion, peeked out from beneath. Sandals, of course. The sort of person who looks like she once campaigned for Greenpeace!
Their meeting was confirmed with that awkward exchange of names, first-timers. Not a date, thankfully. Nobody had made the grooming effort a date demands. If it was a Tinder match, then someone’s algorithm is being held together by duct tape and tears.
She launched into her life story before her bottom had even hit the chair, loudly detailing how she’d revolutionised the schooling system with her “unique” techniques. From what I gathered, these involved stress balls, mindfulness bells, and never actually teaching anything. But who needs literacy when you can colour your feelings?
Then, he began. And dear Lord, how he began.
Apparently, he’s a “life coach.” But hates the term. Which is curious, considering he used it five times in the first thirty seconds. He declared it like a martyr describing his cross. Born prematurely, pulled out with forceps, which, and I quote, “shaped my journey.” According to him, this early trauma had caused endless mental health struggles.
Now forgive me, but how exactly does being yanked into existence at 38 weeks equate to a lifetime of emotional spirals? The guy had barely been alive for a minute, but already blamed the world for not dimming the lights and playing smooth jazz during his delivery.
At this point, the entire cafe was in. Even the barista, who had been steaming milk with surgical precision, had subtly turned the machine off to listen. A woman pretending to read a self-help book had lowered it slightly. One guy stopped pretending to work and just stared, coffee mug frozen mid-air.
Then, as if auditioning for an A level in drama, he hit us with the finale.
“And to top it off,” he said, pausing for maximum impact, “all the kids have COVID right now. The house is a nightmare.”
Boom. Mic drop. Any remaining belief that this might be some twisted date was now annihilated. No one trying to get to second base casually mentions infectious children like that. Even the Match App has rules.
One by one, nearby customers shut their laptops, downed their drinks, and fled. Some muttered excuses about meetings; others just ran, desperate to escape the vortex of emotional oversharing and misplaced confidence.
And me? I stayed. Morbid curiosity or caffeine paralysis, I don’t know. But I remained, watching this tragic duet of self-importance unfold like a terrible improv show.
So what’s the moral of the story?
Simple: If you’re going to overshare your entire life’s trauma, existential angst, and infectious household chaos, maybe don’t do it in a cafe full of people who just wanted a bloody quiet coffee.
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Chris Geiger, Author of The Cancer Survivors Club.
Daily Dose of Disbelief!
Bsky: @chrisgeiger.com
Bsky: @thecancersurvivorsclub.com
Bsky: @dailydoseofdisbelief.com
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