“Hey Kathryn. Hello? What’s wrong?”
“My website doesn’t smell good.”
Brad had stopped by for his morning cup to go (large, French roast, black). I thinks he likes me, but he never asks me out. “Oh, come now. I’m sure your website smells fine.”
“That’s not what Mr. Nahzah says. He looked at the home page and couldn’t smell where to find the French Roast. I almost gave the poor guy a heart attack. Here,” I swivel the screen towards him, “is it really that bad? Can you find the French Roast?”
“Let’s see, Home, Blends, Grinds, Beans…” A pause. A really long pause. I know he’s confused, and he knows I know this. He pinches his nose, “Damn girl, that website stinks!”
I slap him, laughing.
Brad grins, “Seriously, the labels don’t really help me find what I’m looking for. Maybe if they were longer, or you could put a picture there.”
“How am I going to fit a picture in there?”
“Well, why do you need to use this nav bar?”
“What’s a nav bar?”
“This thing on the side. Why do you need it? Isn’t it just boxing you in?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess. But a lot of websites do that.”
“Come now. Do you run your cafe like other cafes?”
“Of course not. Most cafes are totally lame.”
“Right. So stop being lame.” He shoots me his best mock-intense eyes, gently challenging me.
“I hate you. This is a lot harder than I thought it would be.”
He drew out his words in a mocking tone. “‘This sooooo hard.’ C’mon. It’s not like you’re curing cancer, you’re moving stuff around on the screen. Have fun with it.”
I stared at him and let out a heavy sigh. I feigned vulnerability and tried to create a moment, give him an opportunity, but he didn’t pick up on it.