From today:
Anyway, I haven't said how hipster Portland is yet so I have the perfect example from today to demonstrate. Anyone who reads this probably knows that I collect business cards, that I'm a latte (and jerk chicken) snob and that I like to keep a list of best places/must tries and I look this up from fora online. Well.
There's Nob Hill neighbourhood with a bunch of shops. One recommended is The Meadow full of chocolate, spreads, salt licks and salt flakes (flavours like black truffle and Icelandic lava included). I thought the whole thing was pretentious with a few flakes costing $6-8. Anyway, I asked for a business card and the clerk said they didn't have one but he could make one up on the spot. He proceeded to grab a sheet of paper. He then placed the paper in a typewriter on the counter and typed down the address, cut up a square of the paper with the address on it, and handed it to me. Yes, I was quite in shock. I've had people stamp me a business card because it's a stamp shock, but not type one up on a typewriter. Something that came out of the show Portlandia.
I blend in here pretty well linguistically, no one suspects I'm from elsewhere and my accident sounds the same despite the "Yups" instead of "You're welcomes" (which I still think is rude after noticing it decades ago) and the strong twang on some accents. And also people from elsewhere who studies accents always think I'm American.
Then I went to Barista a few doors down. I also asked them if they had a business card. Again, no, but there's a website. The cashier didn't know the contact email address. He said, "I think it's info@...." he then asked his colleague, who didn't know either. The great sell was when he covered it up by saying, "We actually don't know anything. We just know how to make coffee."
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