Apr 2001
In this issue:
Moose of all Trades 1
Sidewalk coffee boy
Issue: Feb, 2008
“You will not be able to handle it,” says one of the guys in the middle of his ten hour-day running between the hole-in the-wall shop and the caffeine-seeking motorists lining up on the side of the road. I argue my case to Abu el-Abed as he empties a bucket of fresh coffee – and we use the words “fresh” and “coffee” loosely – into the “Dalleh” at the front of the shop. Despite my West Amman appearance, I plead, I am one tough motherf**er. I’d been camping on three separate occasions. I even head Downtown every now and then. Sometimes in a bus. I am a man of the people.
Barely convinced and highly sceptical about the benefits of my journalistic investigation into his business, he grunted: “You can have the morning shift on Sunday”. When you are open 24/7, you can use all the man power in the world.
Although I was hoping for the more-adventurous graveyard shift, the ass-freezing weather made daylight hours more appealing. “The best shift is from 3am-6am,” my new colleague Mahmood purrs. “That’s when all the night club girls and Russian hotties stop by.”
The work structure is rather simple; one of us pours the coffee and the other delivers it to the parked car – even though Amman’s Municipality has banned the delivery component because it blocks traffic. My employer merely places “self-service” signs to overcome this. Senior staff members handle the pouring process and is considered a privileged position as it requires less physical labour. However, there’s infinitely more skill involved: the pourer has to be able to identify the customer’s desired type of coffee, and often cigarettes, through the customer’s hand signals. Using the two containers (sugarless and extra-sweet coffeee) he proceeds to prepare one of six-seven possible variations. “Nothing is more annoying than a customer bringing back his coffee to complain it has more sugar than he ordered,” says coffee-pourer Abdallah, with all the implied stress of a bank CEO.
As I was ready to deliver my first order, I remembered why waiting tables was not one of my career options: I have very little hand-motion coordination. I cannot drink a can of soda in a car without spilling it on myself. Holding the cup of coffee in one hand and the tray in the other is not going to work when you have a line of five cars impatiently waiting for their beverage. (Reminder: Cab drivers are just looking for a reason to repeatedly honk their horns).
As I was stutter-stepping to deliver another order, I patted myself on the back for the tremendous improvement I made within five minutes – proving in the process that I can carry the tray in one hand. Abdallah snatches it backs before it falls and automatically promotes me – or demotes me, I’m not sure – to the pouring duties. An hour later, the street is busier, the line longer and the horns louder. Thankfully, Abu el-Abed’s back up plan kicked in. Yousef showed up, picked up the tray, Abdallah assumed his natural position behind the Dallat, and I was left feeling like a high-rank government employee: monitoring the operation.
Evaluation
Hours lasted: Two and a half
Job difficulty: Physical labour. It gets tough during busy stretches but does have some leisure time during down time.
Money earned: Zero
Career possibilities: None. Especially with Abu el-Abed; it is impossible to work for someone who does not trust you from day one.
Fiscal analysis: Abu el-Abed sell 60ml of coffee for 200 fils
Starbucks sells 355ml for 1700 fils. You do the math.
