Coffee Shop Cartography

I’m sitting in a coffee shop with Sean, an old high school friend. He’s telling me about his meandering career path, and the different things he tried since dropping out of college, barely two semesters in: massage therapy, UPS, web design, spamming, waiting tables. He tried school again somewhere in that period of time, but couldn’t take it, and left again.

I listen to him as I sketch the layout of the coffee shop, counting the number of seats available, the number of display cases they use. I peruse the menu, looking at the goods a bakery/coffee shop should offer, and examine the decor. As Sean updates me about his life, I think about the Sean I knew from high school, and the realization of this dramatic deviation, from the latter to the former, forces me to put down the pen, and really listen.

Sean was a worker. He always pushed himself academically, doing his best in his classes. He seemed bound for college: what was the point of trying so hard if you weren’t? He was an athlete as well, and a gentleman to boot. He is still all these things, except instead of pushing himself academically, he does so as a contributing member of the work force. The only other change is the shadow of self-doubt that hovers over him, a weight of uncertainty that causes a sag in his shoulders. It’s like he sailed out on his boat with a definite route in mind, but made a wrong turn at some bend in the river, and when he looks back, has no clue how he got there.

On the other hand, I stuck to my map, not bothering to explore uncharted territory. I took the safe route, never overextending myself, making all the “right” decisions. And just when my destination emerged over the horizon, I realized I never wanted to be there in the first place. I could tell you exactly how I got to that point, how I became that person. And I never felt so lost.

I wonder which is the lesser evil.

I didn’t learn to take risks until so many of those important decisions were already made. I mean decisions that governed my whole sense of self, that affected me personally, emotionally, financially. I played everything so damn safe, because I was scared of pissing off the wrong person, of getting hurt, or of failure in general.

Maybe sitting in the coffee shop, trying to decide if I’d emulate aspects of this store in my bakery, is overcompensation for all those years of risk aversion. I know I’ve never run a business before. I don’t know the first thing about baking. I know that pursuing a freelance writing career without any contacts or real work experience is silly. Plus, most books never see the light of day. Jeez, just look at how many poor writers there are.

Still, at least I’m back in the boat, paddling away from a life that I want to leave far behind me. I know where I want to go, and I’m willing to take chances to get there.

I hope Sean gets back on his boat, and finds his way, too.