The Wandering Barista

Intended Publication: The Index

Phil is elbow deep in ice cream when a customer tells him he’s leaving an extra dollar for tip. Phil is making a mocha shake—his least favorite order. 

“Thank you much,” Phil says over his left shoulder.

“Whad’ya say?”

“Thank you,” Phil says while straightening up, “I said thank you much.”

Phil Cowley has to repeat himself often. Customers at Fourth Coast Cafe have a hard time hearing him over the constant hum of peripheral conversation, espresso machines, and music. “I guess I’m a low talker. But I hear myself just fine,” Phil says.

In addition to his low voice, Phil has quite the poker face. His slightly pronounced jaw, tight lips, and hard blue eyes do not leave room for many emotions other than sternness. His co-worker, Joey says, “I’ve know him for a long time, but I don’t know him well.”

Phil may also be hard to get to know because of his innate restlessness. Since age seventeen, he’s been on the move. He’s lived in Washington D.C., Chicago, Fort Knox, Kentucky, Savannah, Georgia, Alexandria, Virginia, and Costa Rica. His favorite place was Savannah, Georgia because of people’s friendliness, its Southern charm, the architecture, and the flowers. Phil thinks people down South are more open-minded than people in the Midwest and describes Savannah with uncharacteristic warmth in his voice.

Phil chalks up his transience to having gypsy blood. He even recently turned in an application to be a flight attendant because of the free travel. But Joey doesn’t think Phil would be a good flight attendant simply because, “it’s Phil.” With his typical candor, Phil agrees with Joey and acknowledges that he isn’t good at faking interactions.

If flight attendant doesn’t work out, however, Phil also wants to be a Bollywood actor. “They’re pumping out two or three thousand films a year,” he says. He thinks he could play the American villain, and explains, “I don’t even need to be a good actor for that. I ‘ve already got a pretty mean looking face.”

            Undeniably, after one and half years at Fourth Coast, Phil is ready to leave. He says, “I’m looking for other shit. I’m getting really tired of this job. I’ve been in customer service too long.”

During one of his late night shifts, his best friend and roommate, Josh, comes in to pay a drunken visit. “Do you want to cover the rest of my shift?” Phil asks.

            “Fuck no, man,” Josh yells back.

            Josh walks outside and turns to leave for a rooftop party that’s going on next door, but not before flashing a piece of his chest.

            Phil smiles, “That was for me.”

            Phil has lived with Josh for three years—the longest amount of time he’s lived with anyone besides family. He explains that they get along so well because they’re cut from the same cloth. “I guess that must make me a narcissist,” Phil jokes with a straight face.

            Josh returns from the rooftop party and Phil decides to go outside to take a smoke break with him—one of the several he takes throughout his shift. He removes an American Spirit cigarette from a silver case and tucks it behind his right ear, an action he has to perform if a customer comes in before he gets a chance to leave.  

            About fifteen years ago, Phil started smoking cigarettes at fifteen years old, which was relatively late considering he smoked his first joint at age nine and his first blunt at age eleven with his older sister. Phil’s “hippie dad” smoked pot while he was growing up, but refused to smoke with Phil until he was around eighteen.  

Phil’s parents incorporated their open mindedness in different ways, however. For Phil’s first Halloween, he was dressed up as a cop with a pig mask. He says he didn’t understand the significance of the costume until years later, but now finds it funny. Phil was also raised as a Buddhist. Today, he’s strictly agnostic though, saying, “I don’t think there’s any way to know...I just can’t bring myself to believe.” But, he still appreciates Buddhism as a type of guidance in his everyday choices.

Phil relies on his ability to talk himself out of sticky situations, too. He grew up in a tough neighborhood where robberies were common, and his dad taught him if he wasn’t immediately attacked, the perpetrator didn’t mean business. He learned how to bluff muggers and claims he only got beaten up once because of it.

Phil uses the same type of calm rationality when dealing with his intoxicated friend, Elton, during his late night shift. Elton wants to get into a fight because someone doesn’t like his hat. Phil looks at Elton and without a rise in his voice explains, “He’s probably still not going to like your hat after you throw a couple punches.” Elton begrudgingly accepts that Phil is right and decides to just smoke another cigarette instead.

Phil’s history of banding up against bullies goes back to kindergarten, where he initially bonded with his childhood best friend, Larry Brooks, over a common enemy. The class bully crushed a snail, and Larry and Phil cried together over its brutal death. All Phil remembers is that he and Larry tried to set the bully straight, and someone got punched in the stomach and someone else got kicked in the face. He smiles as he recalls his friendship with Larry, and thinks out loud, “I always wondered what happened to him.”

It is mid afternoon, and Phil is outside smoking a cigarette. He’s got three hours left in his shift, and he’s getting agitated, “Time is dragging by today. It sucks.” He doesn’t stay outside for long though because his baby blue polyester pants are making him sweat in the humid weather.  After a short conversation with a prep cook from the restaurant above Fourth Coast, Phil returns behind the counter. He seems troubled, and looks towards the door as he talks, “Everything is made to be temporary so we can make more.” He wipes the same spot on the counter as he did a few minutes ago, and slowly looks up, “I don’t hate it here, but I definitely am ready to leave.”