The Silent Treatment... Is It Worth It?

So I work at this late-night café on the outskirts of town. The usual crowd is pretty sleepy and quiet, but we get a lot of people coming in just to chat or pass time until dawn hits. There’s one regular who’s been there for as long as I have, let's call him Tom... He always has something interesting to say when he’s not grumbling about the weather or the state of coffee beans these days. Recently, though, I’ve noticed a shift in how we interact. Maybe it started with me rolling my eyes just a little too loudly after another rant about the latest coffee snobberies taking over social media... It was a bad day, and my own opinions had been challenged by yet another barista-turned-blogger. Tom picked up on it right away, of course he did. He’s not the kind to miss much, and things just got awkward from there. Now we barely speak; if I’m lucky, I can squeeze out a ‘good morning’ before he heads out... But mostly, we just give each other these glares and pretend like nothing happened. I keep thinking about making it right, you know? The guilt is eating away at me every time I catch myself ignoring him when the shop gets quiet. I feel bad because Tom’s been a good customer for years; he knows all the tricks to get extra shots or free refills. But now that we’re not speaking like proper humans should, I can’t figure out how to fix it... I’ve tried writing notes and leaving them on his napkin, but they always end up in the trash along with the rest of his cups. Maybe I just need to be brave enough to approach him directly... Yet, there’s this part of me that fears an apology might seem weak or like I’m admitting defeat... I keep telling myself I’ll work up the courage tomorrow night... But tomorrow turns into another day where I avoid eye contact and hope he doesn’t notice my discomfort. So yeah... it’s a small thing but it keeps nagging at me, wondering if this silent treatment is really worth carrying on. If only we could start over with new napkins or order slips, I bet we’d be back to our old selves faster than you can say ‘espresso.’ But for now, it’s just one more mystery of the night shift that keeps me tossing and turning...