Like many with Aspergers, I hate being bombarded with choices. It usually means a change is imminent and change, like most things that happen in life, is usually bad. So, when I am out and Vanessa has insisted we go into a coffee shop and get something to eat and drink, the huge list of every conceivable beverage and tea-time treat known to humankind leaves me somewhat flummoxed. This usually means that I stand at the front of the queue with glazed eyes as the assistant behind the counter strenuously tries to help or, at least, to get rid of me. The conversation, such that it is, usually follows the same pattern.
Assistant: Is there anything you’d like?
Me: I don’t know.
We do a tuna sandwich?
I can see that; it’s at the top of the list.
Oh. I can recommend the fish pie.
Who for?
At this point, the interaction generally ends as the assistant cranes round me, rolls her eyes, and serves the person behind.
Vanessa, noticing my predicament, sought a resolution. Instead of leaving me at the front of the queue, she started to accompany me and try her best to help. The conversation, such that it is, usually follows the same pattern.
Vanessa: Is there anything you’d like?
Me: I don’t know.
They do a tuna sandwich?
I can see that; it’s at the top of the list.
Oh. What about the fish pie?
Who for?
Except that Vanessa, unlike the assistant, is not so easily dissuaded. She continues.
Vanessa: What about something to drink? You usually have green tea.
Me: I do.
So you could have one now.
I could.
And to eat. You usually have a piece of flapjack.
I do.
So you could have one now.
I could.
So I could get you a green tea and a slice of flapjack?
You could.
See? That was easy. Except that Vanessa has now gone even further and completely cut out the middle man – that would be me. Realising my very presence at the front of the queue is entirely unnecessary – I have, after all, never eaten anything but green tea and flapjack in any coffee shop we have ever been in – I now select a table while Vanessa does the ordering completely on her own. Except that, since I will only go into a coffee shop in the first place if it is utterly void of anyone else, selecting a table leaves me with another myriad of possibilities. Generally, I am still coming to a decision as Vanessa returns with the tray of food.
Vanessa: Where would you like to sit?
Me: I don’t know.
There’s a table in the corner.
I noticed that.
We could sit there.
We could.
Let’s do that then.
