Work Text:
"Excuse me!"
Something about the voice made the barista think this was going to be trouble. "Yes, sir?" he asked warily.
"I don't mean to be unreasonable, it just happens, but you don't think your drinks are a bit overpriced?"
"I don't set the prices, sir. But I think they're about standard."
"Really? Even considering the sign outside?"
"The sign, sir?"
"Yes," the man insisted, "You know, the one that says 'We don't have wi-fi. Chat to each other. Pretend it's 1995.'"
The barista blinked. "You think our prices should be lower because we don't have wi-fi?"
"Oh, good heavens, no. I think they should be lower if it's 1995."
"But ... it's not actually 1995."
"You don't put much effort into maintaining the illusion at all, do you? Obviously, I know it's not actually 1995, but within these walls, I have been exhorted to pretend it is, so I am."
"Right," said the barista slowly, "But that doesn't affect the prices." He brightened as an analogy occurred to him, "At a Medieval Fair you're supposed to pretend it's medieval times, but you wouldn't go to one and expect to pay, like, a groat for things."
"Indeed not, although that's because I wouldn't go to one at all. But I take your point. Very well, one black coffee at 2025 prices."
"One Americano," the barista said, keying it into the register.
"I'm sorry, one what?" the customer instantly responded. "I've never heard such a word."
"Oh, come on, everyone know..." the barista broke off. "You're pretending it's 1995 again, aren't you?"
"Quite so, and in 1995, most people in Britain knew nothing of Americanos and lattes. Cappuccinos, perhaps, although they were seen as rather 1960s."
"Fine. One black coffee. That's £2.10."
The customer began taking two tattered pound notes and an outsized ten pence piece out of his wallet, but the barista had been ready for this.
"Now, sir, we agreed that pretending it was 1995 didn't apply to the payment, remember?"
"Oh, yes, so we did. I shall pay by card then, even if it does break the heady atmosphere of Majorism you've worked to cultivate."
As he did so, and received his coffee, the barista couldn't help saying "Don't you think you're taking your complaint about us not having wi-fi a bit far with this whole bit?"
"I told you, I don't care about that. Why, I don't even have a mobile phone!"
"Really?"
"Oh, no. My wife confiscated it because I kept correcting her text messages. Cheerio!"