'I personally believe we developed language because of our deep inner need to complain.'
Jane Wagner

Most mornings I buy a coffee from a chap with a van parked on an Islington street corner. The charming Doriano regales me with stories of Sardinian cuisine, Moto GP and his heavy metal heroes. I explain to him bread pudding, cricket and Prefab Sprout. It’s a happy exchange.

Doriano has been away on holiday recently, and I’ve had to find a new, temporary coffee vendor. I noticed that the bloke with a stall just outside the tube station wears a lot of Fred Perry and has a photo of Charlie George on his shelf. And so I decided to give him a try.

‘A large latte please.’

‘Sugar?’

‘No thanks.’

And then the trim, wiry guy behind the counter broke spontaneously into something of a rant.

‘I mean, they might as well have a Tube strike every day. The commuters are never coming back. They’re all bloody working from home. I don’t know why I bother.’

I commiserated and withdrew. He was obviously having a bad morning.

The next day, when I popped by, the coffee man was on the phone to Islington Council. He looked up at me without a smile.

‘They’re perfectly happy to suspend the parking on our estate at a moment’s notice. But will they ever give a refund? Will they even answer the bloody phone? No chance.’

On my third visit, a Saturday, the barista, without any prompting, launched into a further complaint.

‘I don’t normally work weekends. But the wife wanted me to go round and help her brother put a fence up in his back garden. He’s a banker or something, earns a packet. So I’ve got to build his bloody fence on my weekend. Not likely!’

I’ve come to appreciate the Carping Coffee Man. He isn’t afraid to hide his frustrations with life. He’s being true to himself. And I’m being invited to share his woeful worldview. 

'Blind belief in authority is the greatest enemy of truth.'
Albert Einstein

I think I’ve enjoyed our exchanges because they are so at odds with the false charm and rehearsed pleasantries that one so often encounters at conventional high street chains. The vacuous look, the hollow gesture, the painted smile.

‘Enjoy!’ 

In the advertising industry we’ve always been keen to promote eagerness and enthusiasm. We were boosterish before it was fashionable. And I would often propound the notion that ‘positive people have bigger, better ideas.’

I still subscribe to this view. 

However, at the same time I’m a firm believer in diversity of thought - that every team needs a sceptic. Because sometimes the vision needs testing, the assumptions need challenging and the corporate bubble needs bursting. Natural critics supply insurance against groupthink. They keep leaders’ feet firmly on the ground. And curiously, they often lighten the mood. 

'Neurotics complain of their illness, but they make the most of it, and when it comes to taking it away from them they will defend it like a lioness her young.’
Sigmund Freud

As I stood awaiting my large latte this morning, the Carping Coffee Man seemed to have nothing to moan about. But then an unfortunate woman came up and asked for some change. 

‘No, I have not got any change, Mrs. Try the bloody bank!’

'There's a stain on my notebook where your coffee cup was,
And there's ash in the pages, now I've got myself lost.
I was writing to tell you that my feelings tonight
Are a stain on my notebook that rings your goodbye.
Oh, now she's gone
And I'm back on the beat.
A stain on my notebook
Says nothing to me.’
Squeeze, ‘Black Coffee in Bed’ (C Difford / G Tilbrook)

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