Sun, 05/01/2011 - 22:04
Presented in Nagoya Design Do!, 2008, Japan. Presentation about "Made to Measure"
My dad owns a coffee shop.
My dad is silent as-well, and that’s the second thing I can say about him.
When customers enter his coffee shop, he hardly greets them. He just leads them to a table and comes back with a kettle filled with boiling black coffee. He pours it into old yet clean glass cups, places the kettle on the table, takes the sugar jar that was hidden in his hand, pulls out a silver spoon from his off-color buttoned shirt and stares into the client’s eyes. Then, he puts the spoon in the jar, stacks sugar, pours into the coffee and mixes.
When customers enter his coffee shop, he hardly greets them. He just leads them to a table and comes back with a kettle filled with boiling black coffee. He pours it into old yet clean glass cups, places the kettle on the table, takes the sugar jar that was hidden in his hand, pulls out a silver spoon from his off-color buttoned shirt and stares into the client’s eyes. Then, he puts the spoon in the jar, stacks sugar, pours into the coffee and mixes.
For three decades now, people murmur there, “My god, that’s exactly - I mean exactly - how I like my coffee.”
The third thing about my dad is that he’s still in love with my mom, even though it’s been ages since they are together, and almost all their friends are either divorced or hate each other.
My mom also loves him.
When he comes back from work, he kisses her and goes to make her coffee. She puts the sugar by herself. She’s the type of people who prefers making it on their own.
After that, she falls asleep on the couch, and he hugs her. Hugs and quiets.
The third thing about my dad is that he’s still in love with my mom, even though it’s been ages since they are together, and almost all their friends are either divorced or hate each other.
My mom also loves him.
When he comes back from work, he kisses her and goes to make her coffee. She puts the sugar by herself. She’s the type of people who prefers making it on their own.
After that, she falls asleep on the couch, and he hugs her. Hugs and quiets.
Me - I have a small manufacturing house of garments. I wish it was bigger, but so far it’s not very successful, mostly because people don’t understand the idea. Or maybe because my marketing is wrong. I don’t know exactly what, but something is just not working properly there.
“No, it’s not a regular mass-production,” I explain. “No, these are not one-off’s, neither. It’s not something in between! It’s simply something else. Its mass-customization.”
“No, it’s not a regular mass-production,” I explain. “No, these are not one-off’s, neither. It’s not something in between! It’s simply something else. Its mass-customization.”
For several years now, I hear people murmuring, “My god, what is he talking about?!”
There is this chick that shows interest lately. Behind her there’s a big client - something that can promote my business quite significantly. She has charming eyes. That’s the first thing I said about her. She also laughs from my jokes, and it is so rare to the extent, that this is the second and third things I say about her.
When we just met, she also didn’t understand what I was talking about. So I invited her to my place, the next day at 5 am - “Brush your teeth, but don’t drink any coffee”, I demanded.
When we just met, she also didn’t understand what I was talking about. So I invited her to my place, the next day at 5 am - “Brush your teeth, but don’t drink any coffee”, I demanded.
She arrived at five fifteen with swollen eyes. “I’m a night person,” she apologized.
I sat her on the couch and went to the kitchen to make her coffee. “Two sugar,” she yawned.
“Two, one - what’s the difference. It’s all the same.”
I could have kept speaking, I could have clarified my intentions, I could have explained the analogy.
But I didn’t. I don’t know why.
When I came back to the living room, she was already asleep on the couch. I placed the coffee on the table, lay down next to her, and hugged her. Silently.
I sat her on the couch and went to the kitchen to make her coffee. “Two sugar,” she yawned.
“Two, one - what’s the difference. It’s all the same.”
I could have kept speaking, I could have clarified my intentions, I could have explained the analogy.
But I didn’t. I don’t know why.
When I came back to the living room, she was already asleep on the couch. I placed the coffee on the table, lay down next to her, and hugged her. Silently.
I think I start to resemble my father.