I've been going to this deli for so long that they now know exactly what my order is. I want a large coffee with milk and sugar in it. I've never changed the order and never will. I like my coffee the way it is prepared.
This is the prime example of every deli I walk past. I went inside a different deli away from campus. Construction workers occupy that space because they are building a new corporate office across the street from it. The chefs recognize them all the time, asking them how they are, how's the building, and would they like some extra ranch dressings on the sandwiches that they order all the time.
I walked into another deli in the village. A woman was buying some juice, and the guy working the front asked her how she's been, and how old her new baby is. She went into deep detail on how the first fourteen months of birth has been. He shared a compliment with her and ask when is he going to be invited to the next dinner party. I stood there silent, processing how intimate their conversation was.
It dawned onto me how your favorite deli and the people that work there can be a extended version of your life. You see them all the time when you're on your way to work, or just want to grab a quick bite to eat because you don't feel like cooking for the day. A relationship between the individual and the deli is a bound to happen if the chemistry fits.
A deli can be a family if you let it. Isn't that delightful?