It gets on my nerves

Illustration from Business Week

A group of thirtysomething professionals huddle at the counter in Starbucks.

They are all clutching their mobiles and a tall thin woman is talking loudly into hers - a BlackBerry. She seems to be organising a marketing campaign or maybe she'd just trying to appear important. She certainly looks important in her pencil skirt, tailored jacket and towering heels.

When it comes to her turn to be served, she continues the conversation in between issuing orders to the barista. She asks for a skinny latte and then looks disappointedly at the sandwiches and cakes on offer. 'Don't you have anything else?' she says, but she does not hear the answer because she is talking into the BlackBerry again. And that means she cannot tell the barista what she wants, so she imperiously gestures towards a sandwich and an apple.

Now comes the bit where she has to pay. This involves leaning her head to one side to cradle the phone while using both hands to search through her handbag for her purse - as though it were a surprise that she would need access to money for the transaction - and, of course, talking all the while. She pays, takes her change and her lunch and moves away a couple of paces.

The next customer is just about to ask for his coffee when the woman returns, barging in front of him to ask the barista 'Can I get a receipt for that?' Finally, clutching the precious piece of paper recording her £4.98 expenditure, she gets out of the way.

The chap now at the counter is asking 'Can I get two Americanos, a double shot macchiato and a flat white?'

He spots a friend further down the queue. 'Hey Al, how're ya doing man?'

'I'm good,' comes the reply.

'Can I get you something?'

'No, it's OK. I'm good,' says Al. 'I'm just here to show a newbie the coffee house. Best get back to him. Good to see you man. Don't be a stranger.'

Al wanders back to his companion, his friend pays for the coffees, hands over his loyalty card for stamping and moves on.

A scene from Friends? No, a scene from London life today. If you think about it, it couldn't be Friends. There is no banter with the barista; the customers barely acknowledge that she exists.

For the record, the tall woman is an American, the barista a dark-skinned Italian and everyone else in the queue is a white Englishman in a suit costing upwards of £300.

So these are well-paid professional people, some of whom presumably spend their days working with clients or dealing with the public.

For some reason they have adopted Americanisms learnt from television or film, jettisoning not only the English language but also its customary courtesy. None of them would dream of saying 'Please may I have...' and 'Thank you' seems to be reserved for special occasions.

The ugly verb 'to get' holds sway - and grating as it is, it seems strangely apt for these grasping, ungracious people; people who earn ten or twenty times the barista's wage, yet cannot forgo the chance of a free cup of coffee for every ten they buy, or spend a fiver on their lunch if the boss will pick up the bill (sorry, tab).

And all the time they are constantly saying how good they are: How are you? I'm good. Would you like something? I'm good. Well that's a matter of opinion; it would certainly be nice to see some good manners.