In the coffee break of my Corporations and partnerships law lecture yesterday, a friend and I quickly ducked out to get sufficiently caffeinated to prevent drooling on the desk in the second half of the lecture.
We went to one of the most established coffee shops in freo- Moore and Moore, because it was close and guaranteed to get us the fix we needed. Moore and Moore is somewhat of an institution in the Fremantle coffee scene – it is renowned for it’s jazz music, it’s filthy dirty chai late (which is pretty much the king of all warm milk based beverages), in house art gallery and overall incredibly freo vibes.
As I ordered my standard Capp with 2 sugars, the girl behind the counter asked for my name. Having an unusual name which people (at least where I am from) don’t come across everyday often presents challenges when ordering coffee. People mispronounce my name, don’t understand what it is, ask why I have my name, write it down wrong and I almost feel bad for the awkwardness and confusion I cause for the unsuspecting barista.. In fact ordering coffee has come to resemble a kind of ordeal. Continue reading