I like coffee. I prefer not to drink my coffee in the company of unsavoury people, though. There is a coffee shop near me called Vovo Telo. I emailed the owner recently to offer some friendly advice. I also emailed him my consultancy invoice.
Dearest Matthew,
I drop in on your coffee shop at regular intervals and leave consistently disappointed. Not because of the service. Not because of the food. Certainly not because of the coffee. It’s the absolute lack of je ne sais quoi. Je ne sais quoi is integral if one is to attract truly upmarket clientele.
Your customers are all trashy.
When I was young, my family used to own a coffee shop. There was buckets of je ne sais quoi. Buckets. It had lush red carpets, leather settees and beautifully carved mahogany side tables. Even the walls were covered with purple shag carpet. Customers would arrive in full regalia – none were to be found without ties, bowties or neckerchiefs. Pressed trousers were imperative, as was a smoking jacket. Women were not necessarily banned from the premises, but they were frowned upon and not permitted to sit. Nothing but the best of brandies was served and cigars had a minimum diameter of 2 centimeters. Conversation rules applied – discourse was limited to current affairs, gentleman’s business and mockery of the less affluent. Manservants were permitted, however they were restricted to the servant’s quarters where ale was served – a beverage befitting the more modest personnage.
I recall spending time chatting with the women of the house – a friendly, companionable lot by all standards. They would wear plenty of makeup and heavy scent. I could never understand why, but the establishment had a lot of bedrooms in the back of house where these women would disappear for periods of an hour, but never return rested. They would say things like “Gosh, old Bernstein really didn’t last long” or “Mc Dowell obviously isn’t being pleased by his wife – he was like a horse!”. I had known Mr. Mc Dowell from a young age and so was quite amused at the thought of him jumping over gates in a ring.
For years, things ran smoothly. We would occasionally have a call-in from the police, but after a quick chat with my father and a 30 minutes inspection of the back rooms, they always left the establishment in affable spirits.
Unfortunately, as time progressed, I would hear my father complain about the difficulty he was having sourcing ladies for the house. The women became less companionable and more inebriated and I would often see them putting powdery medicine up their noses. Strangely, as the women became less companionable, so too did the clientele. Suddenly, there were less ties and smoking jackets to be found. Manservants were rare and tattoos were on the increase. It had been a long time since a Jaguar or MG had parked outside – most of our customers now drove white vans. The purple shag carpet walls had collected numerous, unpleasant looking stains.
One day, the police arrived in numbers. Although they looked more determined than usual, their visit to the back of house rooms went ahead. This time, though, I heard the word ‘trafficking’ being bandied around amongst them. I was very scared. I feared that my father had broken the rules of the road – perhaps driven through a stop street or parked against the flow of traffic. I remembered my mother had for years warned him against such disregard.
Our coffee shop was closed down. I spent the next 10 years of my life doing favours for old men down side alleys. Prostitution is a terrible thing.
What I am trying to tell you, dearest Matthew, is your coffee shop is heading the same way as my family’s. What you need to do is establish one or two bedrooms in the back and get some nice ladies to put some makeup on. Don’t worry too much about the cigars, brandy etc. for now – that can all be slowly introduced. You should eventually see some of the riff raff, drug dealers and pimps that hang out on your stoep making themselves scarce. Who knows – maybe one day you’ll have cars other than Toyota Corollas pulling up outside your place?
Attaboy.
Yours in sound advice,
R. Dagless (MD)
Serious Business.
Image from the photo book Bordello by Vee Speers.
Alan Straton
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Ahhhh those were the days 😉
Vovo Tello can’t be considered too bad a coffee shop, as I believe that it was sold to Famous Brands last year – I simply adore the place!
Famous Brands?! Your idea of quality is Famous Brands?!
Famous Brands own Wimpy.
Whenever I (very rarely) go to Wimpy, I’m always convinced that the kitchen staff prepare the food before inviting the staff dog to sit on it for a few minutes.
Terrible. Perhaps I should get in touch.
An e-mailed comment from a clearly irritated Moth:
To R. Dagless (MD)
In response to the unasked for but he got it anyway ‘advice’ from R. Dagless (MD) to Matthew at Vovo Telo, allow one of the regular ‘trash’ a comment or two. First of all the only thing your MD could possibly stand for is Malcontent Demented idiot, maybe the result of to much powdery medicine up your nose.
Secondly if you don’t like the company, what the heck are you doing there? One tends to feel a little out of place if you don’t fit in well with your surroundings and honestly with your background what do you expect? Thirdly, one should not be envious of others, make your own cheap coffee at home which will add up and eventually you will able to afford a Toyota Carolla.
From your letter it is clear that you are way past your sell by date and please don’t give me the red wine theory about woman, once the wine is past its full body smooth velvety stage it tends to go quite sour, as it is clearly the case with you.
The only conclusion that I can come up with after reading such utter rubbish, is that you are envious of a young successful businessman and are no longer capable of kicking your own butt for not having the same successes as Matthew. Please just do us regular visitors to Vovo Telo the favour and creep back into the hovel you came from, nobody will miss you.
Moth
Moth I agree with your sentiments 100%. He should stay at home and do what he does best, namely write absolute drivel.
Je ne sais quoi – do you actually know what this means Rick ? From the way that you fling this eveyday French expression into your latest piece of ridiculousness – coffee shop/knocking shop –
I suspect not. Showing off again. On the other hand, as far as you go, it is strangely appropriate.
Translation : I don’t know what.
Dagless certainly seems to have way to much time on his hands, he is also very disturbed. I also frequent the coffee shop on a reguar basis. Their breakfasts are delicious, perhaps if I could spend 30 minutes looking in the back rooms with some of the coffee shops fantastic looking waitresses it would have that je ne sais quoi…
There is very little ‘tongue in cheek’ in this article, he must be serious. He has had a lot of childhood experiences, it is very serious indeed
I’m glad my email to Matthew Repton was taken so seriously. I wouldn’t want people to think I was writing tongue-in-cheek or that I frequent the coffee shop more often than most.
It’s a good thing that PE has people like you, Moth. Otherwise we may all end up saying things that we are not 100% genuine about, such as: “It is raining” when actually it is sunny. Or: “The government is doing a sound job” when really they are not.
Je ne sais quoi? No. I had absolutely no idea. Thank you for the translation though – I was sure it was a German/Xhosa corruption.
Kisses
Rick (MD – Marriage Defector)
PS: The above, bracketed description may not be genuine.
Rick Dagless MD (Master Debater)….its funny because it sounds like…
Newsflash, this is a coffee shop and not a 5 star hotel. I have never heard so much snobbery in a while! If the venue is so bad, what amazes me is that you keep going back for more. Excuse me if we all cant afford top of the line name brand cars and whatever else you deem unfit to frequent a coffee shop of all things…