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Chewing the Cud.


I had such a nice conversation with a barista at the Caffè Nero at King's Cross Station this morning that he gave me a discount on my drink; thus proving that it pays to be pleasant. 

Not that I talked to him for that reason. I wasn't after a cheap deal. I just like to make a connection with someone, rather than treating them as if they're not there. 
 
I used to be awful at chatting. I'm a hard-wired over-thinker. It's instinctive. I'd stand in the queue, running through the purchase I was about to make in my head, again and again. I've since realised that working to a script doesn't help; it's better to take things as they come. 

The guy at the coffee shop told me that he was a DJ, but had put gigging on hold since coming to the UK. He said he wanted to make his position at work as solid as possible before going back to his DJing. I told him that I was an actor and we compared job notes. I left the queue forgetting my loyalty card; he shouted after me so I took it. 

I'll look out for him next time I'm passing by. Nice bloke.  
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