#11. Gather 'round at the Buttonhole Bar
Rulers of the Watercoolers do it best but I dream of another reality
In my office, and as I imagine at most corporate places, there is structure to the watercooler weekday chitchat.
Everyone can navigate Tuesday to Friday. As a primer it goes like this:
“Tuesday…at least it’s not Monday!”
“Wednesday: half way there!”
“Thursday: I’m tired. You tired?”
“Friday! Welcome to the weekend.”
The standouts, the stars of the weekday chat, really shine the brightest on Monday. They are in a league of their own and the best the rest of us can do is be spectators.
On Monday, there is an expectation to offer a little more. The office engine is warming up, so we can afford a few more minutes around the coffee machine, to defog our brains.
The Monday chitchat begins easily enough: “How was your weekend?”
Most can muster up a: good/fine/restful/busy. But the Rulers of the Watercoolers do it best, they offer a hook: “My weekend was fine until I lost my car.” Now, they have an audience. “I was at this rock concert on Saturday, see, and at two in the morning on Sunday…” they launch into a miraculous tale that would have spanned sixteen of my weekends but somehow, they fit it all into a day and a half. The punchline is ready to go, rearing to be shot from their oratory cannon: “All I can say is: eat the sandwich before the beer and then take the taxi! Not the other way around!”
Applause! Groans (for their woe)! Cheers! Hissing (at the antagonist) and then, after a few blinks, we dissolve from the kitchen area like fine powder left in the rain.
This Monday, my Coffee Corner Chitchat could go like this this:
“How was my weekend? Great. Ah-may-ZING!”
Here I double-clink the spoon in my tea cup to add a little flair.
“What did I do? Get an earful of this: at 11 p.m last night (two hours after my scheduled bedtime) I finished sewing the last button on my skirt. And do you know where that last button goes? Into the button hole that I also sewed this weekend! Button hole! I MADE BUTTONHOLES WITH MY SEWING MACHINE. BUTTON. HOLES. ME. MADE!”
The next logical thing would be to skip the length of the office and add a few twirls so the skirt, which of course I am wearing, can flare out, jellyfish style. Or pound my chest, like king gorilla of the sewist jungle.
But, my imaginary scenario ends with a very hard reality: no one is around. Perhaps because I get in early, or perhaps because talking about button holes doesn’t qualify for the Monday Coffee Pot Prattle. It’s kind of ‘meh’ when compared to mountain biking, marathon running, outdoor concerting and alpine lake swimming of my colleagues.
To soften my sorrows, I envision opening a locals’ spot called the Buttonhole Bar. Here we have tea and coffee on tap. We have glass cases piled high with scones, croissants, crusty sandwiches bursting at the seams, and slices of perfect pie. We have stools at the counter, and booths everywhere else. The lighting is just right. Not shadowy and not fluorescent. Warm and bright. And we are open only Monday mornings, 7am-11 am. Our patrons flock inside for a pot of tea, shot of espresso and perhaps a fizzy drink and ignite their inner Watercooler Raconteur.
We adore tales about making your own buttonholes (your picture might end up on the Hole-y Grail Wall down the corridor to the washroom). Here we want stories about making it. We sidle up to the booth where someone says “Look,” they take a deep drink from their mug of earl grey, “I didn’t swatch, OK? I should have on Saturday night, but I didn’t and these are the pictures I found on my phone Sunday morning. Honestly, I don’t remember any of it.”
They brandish the screen and we collectively wince. Ouch. Rough weekend.
We raise our glasses to those that made their first button holes and pick inquisitively at a blazer fresh off the ironing board. “You, made this!?”
Sometimes, a knitting pattern designer comes in and we gawk at their booth (who is going to join them?) and we realize it’s a yarn writer we adore. We helplessly impinge on their conversation to hear about the latest pattern release and the wildest mill tour they have ever been on.
At Buttonhole Bar epic tales are in the crafting hands of the storyteller, and we love the unspooling of these stories. We groan in commiseration over mistakes and we make grand promises to each other as we plot about our first knitting retreat we’re going to do, No Matter What.
When Monday morning comes to an end, our patrons are not loathed to leave. It’s been a lot of attention, a lot of storytelling and active listening. We gladly retreat to our own corners. We return to our crafts, stitching the next story, to share next Monday, at Buttonhole Bar.
And on Tuesday, we crash the Watercooler Code and say, wistfully:
“Tuesday…gosh I do miss Monday.”
Love!