Tea Shop Antics

November 3, 2012

I set out to run errands today, among these errands was purchasing a new pack of loose-leaf green tea. I first headed to The Red Rose bus station to purchase a ten-trip fare ticket when I experienced the usual vehicle accelerations. I headed to a shop by the name of Cross Keys Coffee & Teas to purchase the green tea upon completing the purchase of the ticket. An idling car attempted to startle me by blowing its horn in a loud sudden burst as I walked past it. I looked at the car in reaction to the noise, but did not flinch as the average person. I have experienced enough of the noise to possess a certain degree of inoculation against it. I entered the shop upon arrival to find some other customers inside. One of them was an elderly woman conversing with the store clerk. I browsed through various types of teas that are sold in both loose-leaf and bagged form as the elderly woman continues conversing. The loose-leaf variety was displayed in plastic containers with small bags of them located at the bottom. I looked through the bags wondering the size and cost. I searched the label for information about the originating plantation. I tend to feel some concern regarding the difference between organic and inorganic teas given that I have read about inorganic teas usually being grown as farmers spray high levels of insecticides. I had trouble making up my mind about whether to purchase the tea, so I decided to browse through the rest of the store by walking to the other end displaying the coffees. I began to hear the sound of a man clearing his throat---this is one of the actions in which the perpetrators sensitized me through the use of Neurolinguistic Programming (NLP)---as I read the labels of the coffee displays. It sounded similar to the cashier's voice indicating to me that the cashier is part of the program. The throat sounded a second time a minute later. I ignored the "thunder throat" as I continued browsing. Among the selection was the usual moka javas, espresso roasts, and french roasts as well as a variety name with the word "Kilimanjaro" included into its classification. I figured it as the usual Kenyan coffee. "I had this before," I thought to myself. I read another label describing a coffee that is from the mountains of some type of ancient Mayan or Aztec city---I cannot remember the name of the city---in Mexico. I thought it sounded like a nice blend based on the description. I moved back to the other end to browse the loose-leaf teas to hear a return of the "thunder throat." I looked toward the cashier to find an elderly man in front of him wearing a regular blue---one of the NLP colors---sweatshirt. I wondered if it might have been Voice-to-Skull (V2K) rather than an actual person given that the cashier and the elderly man were both acting natural when I looked. I continued browsing the loose-leaf teas deciding to pick up a small bag of pinhead gunpowder green tea. I asked the cashier for the size information. He interrupted before I could finish my sentence, answering "a quarter pound" in a stern tone. I then asked him for the price information to receive a reply in the same exact tone of austerity. He indicated that the price is four-dollars and fifty-cents. The dialog then proceeded as follow with the cashier's maintenance of sternness:

"Do you know if the tea is organic?" I asked.

"No, the tea is not organic. None of these teas are."

I paused for a few seconds. "I guess I'll take this one." I walked toward the cashier as he prepared the register.

"That will be four-fifty."

I pulled my wallet from my pocket and retrieved my debit card from it.

"I hope you have cash?"

I briefly paused and proceeded to ask, "You don't accept deb..."

"It's a fifteen-dollar minimum for debit card purchases."

"Yeah, I do have cash." I pulled a five-dollar bill (or should I say a five-dollar Federal Reserve note that should be rightfully labeled as legalized counterfeit money) from my wallet, handing it to the cashier. He handed me fifty-cents for my change. "The flavored coffees, are they naturally or artificially flavored?"

"They have artificial flavoring." The cashier's tone became a little bit more stern than the tone used in answering my other questions. It made me wonder if he was intentionally giving me this answer to prevent me from shopping in his store in the future. His handlers may have possibly told him that I'm picky when it comes to product ingredients.

"Okay." 

 I originally planned to leave immediately when I decided to ask him another question. "Do you have a cold?"

"No, I don't have a cold."

"Oh, I noticed that you were clearing your throat a lot, so I was just wondering."

"I don't have a cold, thank you."

I was a little surprised by the fact that he did not explain his excessive throat clearing like I had expected. I left the store thinking to myself about some things I should have said to him, among these is the standard question: "have you heard of organized stalking?" I placed the tea inside my backpack and looked around to see some street trash watching me. One of them was a young Wigger woman approaching the street corner across from where I was standing. She came to a stop and stood there in spite of the clear traffic. The second one was a Black woman walking toward me on the exact same side of the street. I then heard horns sounding in all directions as I left and walked toward the corner of Orange and Queen Streets. A car turned the corner to accelerate past me. I stopped to let the car pass then crossed the street. I headed to the library on North Duke Street.