Setting the Scene
A few months ago, I was at a small airport cafe in Panamá ordering a coffee and snack. Uncharacteristically, my family and I had reached the terminal early, with plenty of time before our flight would depart from Tocumen International. So we stopped for a bite.
After requesting my café con leche and assorted pastries, I handed the barista my credit card and then dutifully stepped to the waiting area beside the register.
As I waited for the food and drink, another customer approached the counter to order. From where I was, I couldn’t hear the conversation well between the barista and the patron, a frazzled, middle-aged guy with salt-and-pepper stubble and mussed hair. From the stray words I could pick up and the body language I observed, I gathered quickly that (1) the man was trying to order something, in labored Spanish, and (2) the barista had no idea what he wanted.
As I continued waiting, I curiously observed the interaction at the r…
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