I Can't Enjoy My Tea — Sara Darle Olsson

I Can’t Enjoy My Tea (2024)

Originally published in Art & Research publication “I Wanna Split Up”, 2024
See related artwork: “To Be Touched Is To Exist (Is To Be Seen)
Written together with Luna Kanters and Marion Duchamp
Graphic Design by Haoran Zhi
Photos by Matija Stojanovic and Özgür Deniz Koldaş

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Coffee shop, 00h01 AM, Tuesday
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“The Eiffel Tower? As in the size, right?”

“That’s such a gross description, does that mean it’s pointy?”

“No, it’s a position.”

“No, what? For sure it’s about the size.”

“You know what it looks like, right? It’s like this, it’s a position specifically for threesomes.”
(Gestures hands together in a triangle)

“Wait, let me draw it out.”

“Do you think they’re writing about themselves?”

“So there’s one person here, on their hands and knees…”

“No, I don’t think they would do that, would you?”

“...and one from behind, the third person from the front…”

“I mean, some inspiration comes from real life.”

“...and this is, like, a high five. Or a kiss.”

(CRASH)
(Heads turn towards the noise)

Tuesday morning, 10am, the same coffee shop as always. Crowded. Only one spot left. I am surrounded by four other cameras. Reolink RLC-810A is hanging next to me. They are deaf and their sight is narrow. They will be replaced in a while. Not useful anymore. So let’s not lose focus today, because I know I am in the risk zone as well. But how do I keep my focus, if I see the same things every day? Laptop screens, coffee cups, tea cups, empty cups, and an endless amount of people. I do it all for you, the living. The others cannot be trusted, you know that, right? I see you walking in. I’m glad you are here, but please hurry for the last spot. Take it. I will protect you (1), but can only do so if you just listen to me. Fuck, I lost you. The pillar. The damn pillar. I can’t see you. Come back to my line of sight. Sit down at the place where I can see you (2). You take off your jacket, but you do not notice that you are knocking your neighbour's glass on the ground. Another accident. The last time you had an accident, I didn’t see you for weeks. Do not dare to do the same this time. You can’t live without me, you know that (3). So don’t leave.

(1) We must be warned about the rise of a dystopian political system, the totalitarian state, in which the state has total control over its citizens, owns their souls (Orwell).
(2) The society of transparency is not a society of trust, but one of control. Its mechanical, calibrated nature distinguishes it: an inherently totalitarian trait (Han, VII-3).
(3) The surveillance state’s assumption that there is a need for paternal protection, projected on those seen as more vulnerable, who are stereotypically female or queer, creates a cultural hierarchy of behaviour. It emphasises individual surveillance rather than systematic change (Myers)

The small paper ticket says: one cappuccino, oat milk. The steps have become second nature to me: grind beans, press with 1 bar pressure, click into the machine and let the espresso drip. Foam the milk and listen for the noise. We make eye contact over the machine, in between you staring at your phone and me looking at my foam. The clink of the cup against the saucer and its raspy slide over the counter blend into the overall noise of the café as I open my mouth to speak. You don’t even wait for me to call your name or order, you just take the cup and go. No smile, no thank you, just a sigh and a shitty attitude. With your big obnoxious coat with bright red seams that don’t match the red in your scarf. For a second, I allow myself to be annoyed. To desperately want to be treated like a human being more than a coffee delivery machine. I turn to my coworker, roll my eyes, frown, and sigh loudly with agitation. She looks at me, we don’t need to speak out loud anymore, a look already says enough. She makes me feel more human again, sees what I am seeing. It makes me feel present (4). It makes me want to share my thoughts with her, but then she points with her dull green painted nails at the machine where more tickets have stacked up. More coffees to be made. No time to chat. It makes me feel lonely and disconnected. I do not know if I am ready to feel present.

I hear the crash, and I know what happened before I even see it. With a sigh and a shitty attitude, a glance at the tickets waiting by the espresso machine to be turned into coffee, I grab a broom and a towel on instinct. Can’t believe I have to clean your mess. As I walk towards it, you don’t even look at me. No thanks, nothing. You made me the coffee delivery machine. It makes me sad. It makes me angry. I am this entity that makes coffee, cleans, but how am I doing? Nobody knows (5).

(4) Personal contact is a necessity in life. The look of a nurse, someone who cares, makes you feel present and heard. Being in contact with others, receiving their attention, is needed to make you feel human (Janssen).
(5) Strong ties between people are extremely important for their wellbeing. Whereas weak ties denote mere acquaintance, strong ties denote close relations with friends and family. It is these strong ties that fulfil the human need for connection (Rademacher and Wang, 1213).

Oh my god. Listen to what just happened to me, you are not going to believe this. So, I was sitting in our café, as usual, and it was crazy busy. Like, I could literally see the nose hairs of the person next to me, that’s how crowded it was. Anyways, a lady entered the room and of course, she was going to sit across from me since that was the only free spot in the whole damn café. And as she was sitting down, she dragged her jacket over the table, and BAAM, she hit the glass of the person next to her. So the glass flew through the air and it crashed on the ground. Into a million pieces. And I kid you not, there was glass everywhere. It shattered across the whole room. I’m so glad I lifted my legs on time because I could have been hurt for sure. So I looked back at the lady and you know what she did? Nothing. She just acted like it never happened. Could not bother less. Went on with her life, while she had caused this horrific situation. Nobody was able to walk on the floor anymore, that’s how bad it was. And this lady just acted like it was nothing. As if she hadn't just endangered the life of all of us. How did she even dare not clean up this mess? But you know what the weirdest thing was, of all of this? The owner of the glass turned as red as a tomato. He was sweating like hell, his body shaking like crazy. As if it was all his fault. Poor guy. I feel for him.

> Send?
> Yes

I switch tabs from my emails to my Facebook feed. An old high school friend posted about her engagement this morning, and somehow she looks exactly the same as back then. I look up her Instagram profile on my phone. It is private. The tag in her bio leads me to her boyfriend's profile, now her fiancée, I guess. It’s public (6), but all the photos are of the zoo animals he cares for in the local animal sanctuary. What a hero. And the multiple birds they seem to own. I wonder what their house smells like (7). I continue scrolling. Blake Lively just uploaded a new post. I don’t normally follow celebrities' social media accounts, but she just feels so genuine and real (8). She rarely posts red carpet or promo photos, so it feels just like another one of my high school friends updating on their daily life, except she’s also rich and famous. I never actually interact with the posts, I’m not that desperate to show her my love. I just like to know what she’s up to.

Suddenly, a loud crash shakes me out of my thoughts. I turn my head in the general direction of the sound, but see nothing. Only now do I realise how full the café has gotten since I first sat down. I consider leaving, but then my eyes turn back towards my phone screen.

I wonder what cafés Blake goes to, and if this kind of chaos ever ensues there. I bet she would handle the situation so gracefully. I bet she would even help the workers clean up the mess, without having to brag about her actions on social media after. I put on a smile and straighten my back. I consider helping out, but the mess already seems to be cleaned. I think we would be great friends, actually, and I think her husband would like me as well. I’m hilarious on Twitter.

(6) People are voluntarily surrendering to, and deliberately collaborating with a digital panopticon, while also being inside one. This is due to societal expectation and acceptance. The participant becomes both the perpetrator and the victim, both watching and being watched (Han, 48-49).
(7) Mass communication and parasocial relationships can be seen in relation to the discussion on “intimacy at a distance”. Celebrities, by directly addressing the audience and adjusting their performance according to their audience’s expectations, have the power to create a sense of intimacy and anticipation with said audience (Horton and Wohl).
(8) Having a parasocial relationship with someone equals a one-sided relationship. You know them, mostly very well, but they don’t know you. It’s most often the case with relationships betweens fans and celebrities (Palmen, 102).

Entering the bustling café, I navigate through the crowded tables, eyes scanning for an available seat. When I spot the lone empty chair next to someone engrossed in their work, I make my way towards it. The café is filled with the comforting hum of conversations and the aromatic allure of coffee. I take off my jacket, and I hear the sound of glass breaking. I turn around to figure out where the noise is coming from. Then I see my neighbour at the table looking up at me. Why are they looking at me? Do they think I did it? Did I do it? Oh no, I am starting to feel nauseous. My body temperature heads up. My leg starts to shake a bit, but I can control it just in time. What if I did it? Must I do something? Oh, a staff member is already here with a broom. Should I take the broom (9)? I feel guilty if I don’t look and ashamed if I do (10). I look up. Oh, they already left. I will just grab another coffee and tip them.

(9) The attitude-behaviour gap arises as soon as there is a disconnect between a person's values and their actions. The most important reason for such a gap is denial of the situation (Hanna and Adams, 195).
(10) Social stigma is affecting the lives of homeless youth, since it leads to them being viewed with disgust or not being viewed at all. They are purposely ignored, out of shame or a feeling of impotence (Kidd, 297).

No no no no, why did he do that? Why does he act like he didn’t just smash that glass on the ground, which left a huge stain on my pants? My glass. Now everyone will think it was me. What should I do? It is his responsibility, so I’ll just confront him. He can’t think he can just get away with this! I won’t take his blame. Yeah, but no. I don’t want to make too big of a deal out of it. It must not become a scene. Then all the eyes are on me and I already feel so watched in this crowded space. I feel like I have to puke. My stomach is spinning. Okay, just relax. I’ll clean up the mess and act like nothing happened. I don’t want people to think that I don’t take responsibility for my actions. I don’t want to disappoint the staff. But I also don’t want him to walk over me. And why do I even feel ashamed about something I didn’t do? Ah no, I have to puke again. Don’t puke, that makes everything worse. Why do I always get puke tendencies in moments of stress? And why doesn’t that happen to him? This is so unfair.

I hate falling into these stereotypes of the hysterical woman (11) and the unbothered man. All I wanted was to quietly enjoy my day, and now I’ve been dragged into this situation by him, he has trapped me in this narrative. I can see everyone’s thoughts spinning, they think it was me, and now they expect me to take responsibility to clean this up. I’ll have to do it with all of them watching.
(11) As early as the sixteenth century the idea that hysteria came was caused by problems with the uterus, but this wasn’t officially recognized until the nineteenth century. This example demonstrates how mental illnesses are unscientifically attributed to women and how those of men are ignored. Moreover, medical research on the female body is slow, which leads to disinformation and social stereotypes (Bogousslavsky, 437).

A few weeks ago you were sitting at a café. A coffee fell, and the people in the café reacted. Some reactions seemed a bit extreme, but you didn’t witness exactly what happened, so how would you know? Most of the stories were retold to you in whispers, or overheard in passing, and in some cases, you filled in the blanks based on your observations and assumptions. But it seems like such a mundane thing; glasses break all the time. There’s not much else that stands out as special about the situation, or even the day itself. To be perfectly honest, you are not even sure if you were there on that day. But you go there often, it’s almost a routine, so it’s likely you were there. In your calendar there is a perfect empty spot for it. Your bank statement shows that you, at the very least, bought something for €3,50 that day, even if it doesn’t specify what, or if you sat down. You could ask to see the surveillance footage, but it's unlikely that they would let you.

And today you are there again, and it all feels familiar: listening to the conversations around you, observing the people passing by. It all seems so obvious now, how come it’s so difficult to recount the exact details? In one way it is comforting that people are unlikely to remember your embarrassing moments. In another way, you prefer to be a little bit memorable.

Do you exist outside of people’s perception of you? Do the people in your story exist, or were they made up as part of your own? The idea makes your head spin. You were enjoying the gossip, now you can’t even enjoy your tea.

Who’s watching you now?

(12) The uncertainty of recalling an unmemorable event is explored by Sarah Koenig in the first episode of the true crime podcast Serial, in the context of discussing uncertain alibis of a routine day (Serial podcast, 00:00-03:29).
(13) The importance of being seen and/or being in the presence of others is essential to proving our own existence, Emmanuel Levinas argues. Written words and recollections do not suffice, as they are always presented in the past-tense, as something that used to be rather than something that is (Levinas).
(14) (Rockwell, 04:08).

Coffee shop, 23h59 PM, Tuesday
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