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“We have a town favorite that consists of white chocolate mocha and raspberry syrup. Or, we have a grapefruit and elderberry coffee we’re about to phase out before the pumpkin spice hits the shelves. Either of those sound appealing?” Todd asked.
“No, and now I’m running behind because you and your friend couldn’t stop talking. Just give me a large coffee with room for sugar. I’m late for my dissertation,” the man said.
“Coming right up. What are you getting your doctorate in?” Todd asked the man.
“Surprised someone with your lack of degree cares,” the man mumbled.
“Actually, sir, degrees don’t quantify intelligence,” I said.
“What?” he asked.
“Degrees don’t quantify intelligence. Degrees are simply a measure of how an individual persevered through enough schooling to obtain years of instruction in a particular field. Just as an IQ score does not accurately quantify overall intelligence, neither does a degree. Your doctorate doesn’t hold a weight against how smart you are; it only informs individuals you were willing to pay an exorbitant amount of money to receive further instruction in a specific field. Whether it’s a two-year degree or a doctorate.”
I heard Todd snicker as he was putting the cap on the man’s large cup of coffee while I held the gaze of a very angry, tired doctoral student.
“Just because my friend here doesn’t have a doctorate like you are attempting to achieve does not mean he isn’t intelligent. It’s no more plausible for someone to swim in a pool and call themselves a fish than it is to receive a doctorate and call themselves smart,” I said.
“That’ll be $3.26, please,” Todd said. I never could have dealt with some of the dicks he had to deal with on a regular basis.
The man, huffing with anger and red in the face, threw a $5 bill onto the counter, grabbed his coffee, and stormed out. No matter how many times I stepped out into the public, it never ceased to amaze me just how fucking entitled people felt because they got degrees in some specialized area. Even people with simple two-year degrees held their heads higher just because they had some piece of paper on their wall stating they knew some shit.
It was fucking insane.
“I think that man would’ve really benefitted from the elderberry. It’s known to naturally lower blood sugars, help out if you have seasonal allergies, and stop you from being a massive pain in the dick,” Todd said.
I chuckled at the counter, thankful that he was now free to continue talking. Mid-mornings on Fridays were slow, so I always made it a point to come in and catch up with him whenever I was free.
“Was all that shit you said true?” he asked.
“What?”
“That shit about the degrees and IQ scores. Did you pull that out of your ass or what?”
“Oh, no. It’s true. Read it in some science and medicine journal a few weeks back,” I said.
Todd stared at me blankly before he huffed and shook his head. The smell of burnt bagels had died down, replacing itself with a warm sweetness I couldn’t place. I figured it was probably one of Todd’s latest concoctions he was working on in the back, and I made a mental note to ask him about it later.
“The hell you doin’ man?” he asked.
“Well, I’m about to ask you for another delicious cold brew,” I said.
“No, no, no. With your life, Christian. I mean, listen to yourself. You read that kind of shit for fun. You don’t take people down with anger; you do it with your intelligence. You’ve really got somethin’ goin’ for you. Much more than I’ve got,” he said.
“Don’t start down this road. You and I both know that if you left this coffee shop and took your ideas and creations elsewhere, they’d shut their doors within a month. You single-handedly keep this place alive, and I know it’s why you stay,” I said.
“I stay becau
se I've got a good thing going here. Why fix what ain’t broke?” he asked.
“And I’ve got a good thing going, too. I’ve got no plans to get some dumbass job that puts me in an office 24/7 and makes me rub my intelligence in people’s faces. Not my thing, and never will be,” I said.
“So, you admit you’re smart,” he said.
“I admit I know useless shit that is sometimes helpful in some areas,” I said.
“Uh huh,” he said, smirking. “You keep tellin’ yourself that, Christian.”
“Besides, those types of people are the kind I hate. People who think their degrees and specialties and internships make them experts in fields they have no actual work experience in. They come in to do interviews with years of schooling but no hands-on experience, and they’re automatically hired over other people who do have experience, and for what? They’re fucking spoiled,” I said.
