One of my adorable in-laws decided to open a coffee shop. Her mother, an elderly Southern Baptist woman who has rarely been outside her small town in Texas, simply refused to believe that people would pay a lot of money for coffee when they could make it so cheaply at home. She was blissfully unaware of the Starbucks phenomenon.
My in-law, let’s call her Jean, tried to explain to her mother that people do, in fact, pay big money for coffee and will even buy it to-go from a drive through window just like the Dairy Queen. When Jean explained that she would have different kinds of coffee, her mother argued, “There’s only one kind of coffee and it’s coffee. Then there’s tea.”
Struggling for an answer, Jean said, “Mom, there’s many kinds of coffee. We will be selling some very exotic coffees that you’ve never even heard about.”
That seemed to satisfy her.
A week later, Jean gets a call from the minister of First Baptist. It seems that Jean’s mother is excitingly telling fellow Baptist church-goers that her daughter is opening a coffee shop and will be selling erotic coffees.
Jean was mortified. At least until she opened the shop a week later and the line of Baptists waiting to get in was down the sidewalk and around the corner.