Yes, there is such a thing as a stupid question.

Contrary to what many teachers, managers, motivational speakers, life coaches and doting parents have told you, there is such a thing as a stupid question. The argument at the core of that old chestnut, "there's no such thing as a stupid question," seems to be that the edification of the questioner is so important that you must accept, without criticism, whatever poorly articulated question spews forth from his/her mouth. And you are expected to answer it nicely, goddammit. It's a belief that grants people a certain immunity to, well, logic and reason by allowing them to avoid any thought, critical or otherwise, at all.

Don't get me wrong, stupid questions doesn't mean the questioner is stupid. It's not like I think smart people don't ask stupid questions. No one is immune from asking stupid questions. The only difference in regards to asking a stupid question is the probability of realizing the stupidity of the question after it has been asked. Smarter people will often realize, too late, that they have said something stupid. This accelerates the all-important feeling of shame which is important in the learning how to ask a smart question.

Why the philosophical argument about the existence of the stupid question? It ties in to my unique circumstances of my barista angst. Allow me to explain.

I work in a cafe that is also a bike shop. Cars R Coffins Coffee Bar and Bike Shop, to be exact. It's not an original concept, but it is by no means commonplace. As a result, I get this question... a lot:

"So, is this like a bike shop and a coffee shop?"

To which I want to say:

"Yes, it is a goddamn coffee shop and bike shop. Don't you see the menu on the wall? Don't you see the fucking price tags on the bikes? Why are you here? To crush my soul? Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck oooooooooooooff!"

I resist this urge. I tell them nicely that it is both coffee shop and bike shop. Then part of me dies. I am no genius. MENSA won't have me. But I at least I can avoid asking stupid questions... most of the time.

Once I saw the Swedish doom n' roll band Entombed at a bar in St. Paul. I saw the singer L.G. Petrov and started up a conversation with him. I asked him if he knew a Swedish friend of mine who used to be a part of the Stockholm death metal scene. I didn't phrase it well; I can't remember exactly what I said, but I imagine it was something like "do you, like, know Matthias Sistonen? He was, like, in a death metal band in Stockholm 10 years ago..." It still hurts to recount this story. L.G. said "no," but his eyes said "go away, you gay-tarded fuckstick." I did just that, because I realized I had asked a stupid question. Of course he didn't know my friend. I felt compelled to ask, and in a way, it purged me of a stupid question. But the question, in context to the circumstances, was really stupid. So don't get me wrong, I'm polite to the customer who asks a stupid question for more reasons than "well, my boss will fire me if I'm rude." I do it because I know I'm no innocent when it comes to this crime. But the experience did make me think, which, I'm afraid, isn't always part of the aftermath when a stupid question is asked.

The moral of the story? There are stupid questions, so just own up to it already. And before you ask a question, use your head. If it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, and has feathers like a duck, its a duck. If it looks like a bike shop, has bikes like a bike shop, and has a coffee menu like a coffee shop, it is safe to infer that the shop is both. End of story.