Coffeehouse Conundrums: A One-Act Play
Setting: A trendy urban coffeehouse, all exposed brick and Edison bulbs. The air hums with the clatter of espresso machines and the weight of unspoken social codes. A chalkboard menu looms, prices just high enough to signal exclusivity. A corner table sits slightly apart, offering a view of the entire scene. The barista, visibly frazzled, wipes down the counter while a line forms.
Characters:
- Habitus: A sharply dressed figure, exuding an air of effortless taste, but every choice is a product of invisible social scripts.
- Complaint: A tense observer, eyes darting between the menu and the barista’s weary face, holding back a flood of critiques.
- Margins: A quiet figure at the corner table, notebook in hand, seeing through the coffeehouse’s curated inclusivity.
- Violence and Inheritance: A reluctant presence, carrying the weight of unseen histories, ordering only what’s cheapest.
- Algorithm: A sleek, data-obsessed entity at the next table, crunching numbers on everyone’s behavior.
- Spectacle: A glittering influencer, adjusting lighting for the perfect shot, oblivious to the chaos behind the counter.
- Capital: An invisible force, represented by a sign announcing a rent increase, shaping every interaction.
- Solidarity: A late arrival, carrying a tray of drinks for the staff, disrupting the theoretical gridlock.
- Flat White Guy: A bewildered everyman, just wanting a coffee, unaware of the sociological minefield he’s stumbled into.
- Barista: Overworked, underpaid, and desperate to keep the line moving.
ACT I: The Order
The coffeehouse buzzes with low chatter and the hiss of steam wands. HABITUS, COMPLAINT, MARGINS, and VIOLENCE AND INHERITANCE are in line. ALGORITHM sits at a nearby table, tapping away at a tablet. SPECTACLE adjusts a phone camera, angling for the perfect shot of a latte. The BARISTA, wiping sweat from their brow, calls out.
BARISTA: Next! What can I get started for you?
HABITUS: Glances at the menu, but the choice is already made, as if by instinct. I’ll have a cortado. Smiles, unaware the choice screams cultural capital—class, taste, the whole package.
BARISTA: Cortado, got it. Scribbles on a cup. Oat milk?
HABITUS: Pauses, as if the question is a trap. No, regular. Feels correct, but can’t explain why.
COMPLAINT: Steps forward, eyes flicking to the “Fair Trade” sign and the barista’s exhausted slump. Um… just a black coffee. Voice tight, itching to point out the broken bathroom sign and the understaffed counter, but knows it’ll mark them as “that customer.”
BARISTA: Black coffee, cool. Turns to MARGINS. You?
MARGINS: From the corner table, leans forward, voice low but clear. I’m good. They’ve already chosen this spot for its vantage point—close enough to observe, far enough to stay unentangled. The rainbow flag on the wall feels like a prop, hiding the high prices and coded etiquette that exclude as much as they invite.
VIOLENCE AND INHERITANCE: Shifts uncomfortably, dragged here by circumstance. Whatever’s cheapest. Drip, I guess. The order feels like a surrender to a system they didn’t choose, each transaction heavy with inherited weight.
BARISTA: Drip, coming up. Notices ALGORITHM staring intently from the next table. Uh, anything else?
ALGORITHM: Without looking up from the tablet. No order, just data. Mutters, tapping. Habitus: 87% chance of oat milk adoption by visit three. Complaint: high churn risk. Margins: low conversion potential. Doesn’t notice VIOLENCE AND INHERITANCE’s shallow breathing, a quiet panic attack in the corner.
SPECTACLE: Adjusts the lighting, framing the barista’s exhaustion as “artisanal charm.” Can you make the latte art quick? I need this for the ‘gram. The barista slips on spilled milk behind the counter, unnoticed by SPECTACLE, who’s already captioning: “Moody coffee shop vibes ☕.”
A sign on the wall flickers: “Rent Increase Effective Next Month.” CAPITAL’s presence is felt, not seen. The coffee beans are cheaper now, the shifts shorter, the “community space” booked for private events.
SOLIDARITY: Bursts in, carrying a tray of iced coffees. These are for the staff. No charge. Places the tray on the counter, nodding to the BARISTA. You okay? Saw you slip.
BARISTA: Blinks, grateful but confused. Uh, thanks. I’m fine. Just… Gestures at the line. Next?
FLAT WHITE GUY: Steps forward, oblivious to the theoretical tension. Yeah, can I get a flat white? Mutters under his breath. Too much trouble for a coffee.
The coffeehouse freezes. A collective gasp sucks the air from the room. 60 decibels to zero in a heartbeat.
COMPLAINT: Whispers, horrified. Did he just say… flat white?
MARGINS: Scribbles furiously in their notebook. Fascinating. The room’s reorganized around a single phrase. Moral clarity in an instant—good versus bad, us versus him.
HABITUS: Clutches their cortado, suddenly questioning everything. Was my order complicit in this? Have I been signaling the wrong field all along?
VIOLENCE AND INHERITANCE: Sees beyond the words. This isn’t about coffee. It’s about scripts—his, ours, the ones we didn’t choose. We’re all trapped in this mess.
ALGORITHM: Tablet glitches, error messages cascading. Unpredicted variable! “Flat white” not in training data! Frantically recalibrates.
SPECTACLE: Hits record, whispering to the camera. When coffee orders go WRONG 😱 #CallOut #AccountabilityMoment.
CAPITAL: Invisible, but calculating. Controversy spikes engagement 12%. Potential revenue loss: negligible. The rent sign glows brighter.
SOLIDARITY: Slides a flat white across the counter to FLAT WHITE GUY, no judgment. Here. It’s just coffee. Turns to the room. Can we chill? He didn’t mean it like that.
BARISTA: Still mopping spilled milk, exasperated. Can everyone just order so I can clear this line?
FLAT WHITE GUY: Bewildered, clutching his cup. All I wanted was a coffee… Mutters, echoing a distant punk anthem. But they wouldn’t give it to me.
The room stays frozen, each character trapped in their framework. HABITUS rethinks its cortado. COMPLAINT swallows another unspoken critique. MARGINS sees the system’s contradictions laid bare. VIOLENCE AND INHERITANCE feels the weight of history in every sip. ALGORITHM crashes under the chaos. SPECTACLE posts the clip, racking up likes. CAPITAL tallies the profits. SOLIDARITY helps the BARISTA mop the floor.
BARISTA: Sighs, loud enough for all to hear. Oat milk, anyone?
The lights dim as the coffeehouse hums back to life, still tangled in its own contradictions. Somewhere, a punk song plays faintly: “All I wanted was a coffee…”
CURTAIN