The Shore Diner: The Customer Who Likes to Count

Tonight I overheard the regulars talking about counting.

Tonight's regular, Hiiragi, spread the evening paper on the counter and said, "They're saying the towers over there counted the number of our own signals." My shop has more customers who are bad at counting than good at it — the proof being that I myself keep miscounting the complimentary starters.

What's interesting is that the regulars clearly split into two kinds. There's the Usami type — people who, like the retired printer in today's article, send postcards full of their own numbers for years, trying to tame the world by counting it. Then there's the kind that makes up most of my regulars: people who think counting is losing. How many cups they've had, how many hours of overtime, how many friends have stopped coming by. They don't count the things that get heavier once counted.

What stuck with me most tonight was something Hiiragi said. "Maybe the towers thought counting was losing too. Maybe switching from seven to eight wasn't because they wanted to count — maybe they had no choice but to, once they noticed something had changed on our side." I can't answer for the truth of that — that's a question for the reporters — but if my regulars are any guide, people usually count either because it reassures them, or because they're anxious. If the other side is the same way, I find that oddly easy to warm to.

Our shop's old serving robot, kept within the previously reported limits on how human it's allowed to resemble, gives a small "beep" every time it carries a plate. Tonight, when Hiiragi teased it — "Are you counting too?" — I could swear it beeped once more than usual. Probably just my imagination. But tonight wasn't the kind of night where you could leave it at that.

Whether you like counting or hate it, everyone went home tonight having counted a little. At the very least, I hope they all remember the number on their bill.