While no statistical proof exists, I have often heard it
said that Canadians are far more reticent than their neighbours from the United States.
It is not that Americans are more aggressive than Canadians,
it's just that they are a more blunt. The best example of that would be a
situation where one American would like to have a conversation with another
American. They would come right out and ask, “Can I talk to you?”
That kind of thing doesn't happen in Canada. If a
Canadian wants to talk to another Canadian, they would be more likely to ask, “Would
you like to have a cup of coffee?” A Canadian would worry about saying
“I would like to talk to you” because they fear that what they are
saying might be misconstrued as “I would like to go somewhere, sit close
to you and have an
intimate conversation just between the two of us.” It's
just too crass. It's too forward. It's just too American.
Since the real estate industry is highly personal and lends
itself to intimate conversation, it occurs to me that Realtors in Canada, more
than any other group of souls, would understand my point. The reason that there
are so many donut shops in Canada,
in fact far more per capita, than the United States, is because we need
them to have conversations and do the odd bit of business.
The next time an American asks you why there are so many
donut shops in Canada,
just tell them, “We do a lot of talking up here” or in plain Realtor
language, “The market has been very active for the last few years, so
there's been a real need for these places.”
Donut shops are a fundamental part of my life. I don't know
why, but there are many people that I encounter who always precede our
conversation with, “Is there somewhere we can go for coffee?” Well
sure, like what donut shop are you near? I'll see you there.
I have become so familiar with these places in Toronto, that I now give
directions to people by donut shops. “Okay, go along this street until you
see a Tim Horton's, then turn right and then make a left at the Country Style,
you should see the expressway ramp from there. And remember, if you get to the
Robbin's Donuts on the left, you have gone too far.”
My wife told me years ago that I would have made a great
cop. “Oh,” I responded, “that must be because of my commanding presence or
my air of authority.”
“No,” she said. “It's because you're always in a donut
shop.”
I calculate traveling time by donut shops. When I think of
driving to the big city from Stratford,
I think, I should be out of the house at around such and such a time, and then
I'll be at the Tim Horton's to get my coffee for the road by this time, and
that means I will be there at such and such time. When I am in a hurry to get
somewhere, I think to myself, I hope there isn't a long lineup at the drive
thru.
I have become a discriminating donut shop patron. People ask
me to meet them at certain donut shops and I will suggest another because I
once had a stale honey glaze in there, or the coffee was unpalatable.
I have vacation memories about donut shops. My younger son,
William, and I were reminiscing about our trip across Canada
recently. He talked about the beauty of Northern Ontario.
I remembered the efficiency of the Tim Horton's in Thunder Bay. He mentioned the magic of the
vast prairie. I thought of the fluorescent sign on the donut shop that you could
see for miles in Regina.
“Do you remember when we stopped at the Pan Am Games
site in Winnipeg,
Dad?”
Sure I did. I also remembered the convenient location of the
Robbin's donut shop on the same road, just east of the highway underpass.
Perhaps I should be worried that I can't tell you a street
name in Medicine Hat, but I can describe the parking lot at the Tim Horton's
just off the highway in meticulous detail. (Don't park on the east or south
side. There's too much traffic going in and out of the drive thru.)
I've met people who have said to me, “We live in Port
Perry, have you ever been there?” I say sure, there's a great Country
Style donut at the highway intersection just west of town, over by Manchester. You can get
gas there, too.” The inevitable response is, “Wow, you really do know our
town!” I can now fool people through my knowledge of donut shops.
With all this talk, you may think I am somewhat fanatical
about donut shops, and I would have disagreed with you until last summer. My
older son, Zakary and his wonderful girlfriend Martha, were planning a road
trip from Vancouver to Ontario. He wanted to bring her home and introduce
her to the family.
We were chatting on the phone about the trip and he remarked
that he planned to make the first stop in Kamloops.
I said, “There's a Tim Horton's at the foot of the mountain there just off
the highway, near the Toys ‘R Us plaza, but you could also stop in Merritt on
the way up. There's a Robbin's donuts at the highway interchange beside the gas
station.”
Although we were talking on the phone, thousands of miles
away, I could see him rolling his eyes at the prospect of introducing Martha to
his good old dad — donut bag and paper cup coffee in hand.
Quite frankly, I don't think my extensive knowledge of donut
shops in Canada
is anything unusual. Maybe a tad eclectic, but at least I'm not pretentious.
Not like that Timothy's coffee shop I was in during the last CREA conference.
Or those places you go in and order a latte with cinnamon sprinkles and panty
waist whipped cream or whatnot on top. They don't have real coffee and there
isn't a donut in the whole place. Just these fancy, schmancy cake slices.
You want a slice of life? Go to a donut shop. Get a real
coffee. Rub shoulders with the salt of the earth. Hey, maybe I'll see you
there, at the counter. Look for the overweight bald man, with the hoser hat and
boots.
We could have a real, meaningful conversation.
Heino Molls lives in Stratford,
Ontario, just south of the Tim
Horton's Huron Street
location. He’s the publisher of REM. Email [email protected]
