As I am wrist deep in cookie dough, I wonder about blood platelets. Not my own, but someone else’s. A regular customer at the café told me today of a heavy health issue he is entering, a life of death diagnosis and I knew he needed cookies.Every day, we have people walk into the café with a stack of papers or a folder and they awkwardly ask, “I was wondering if you guys were hiring?”
I tell them we are not, but we are always accepting resumes. When they hand me a resume, I ask them, “Why do you want to work in coffee?"
Most of them shrug and say, “I dunno. It looks like fun.”
Occasionally, I will get someone who widens their eyes with honesty and says, ‘I just really need a job right now. Anywhere.” They don’t want to be in coffee, they are just desperate for a paycheck. Sometimes people forget they get to choose where their paycheck comes from.
As for me, I am in coffee because I really love people. And this month, I decided to stop making it a secret and actually tell them.
One customer looked at me with a sideways smile and said, “You always act so happy to see me.”
“That’s because I am.” I told him.
He stared at me for a second and then realized that I was serious. “You remind me of Mr. Rogers.” He said. “When Mr. Rogers retires, you should take his place.”
I have never actually seen the show, but I know the theme song. Its all about neighbors. These regular customers whom I see five days a week are my neighbors.
“How many regular customers do you have?“ he asked.
“300.“
“You can’t possibly care about all of them.”
“Sure I do. That’s why I remember their names and their regular drinks. And, take this for example.” I pulled out a card I had made the night before, “This is for a pair of customers who are having a really tough week with their living situation.” I shrugged, “I care. It‘s just what I do”
I held up a brightly colored paper cup I had decorated that morning. “And this is for P.J. I really hope she comes in today because I made her a special cup-cake for her birthday drink to go in.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because I am in the place to. I care, and I am in the place to make a difference.”
It’s the little things in life. Like when Marnie walked in, fighting back tears and it was obvious to me that she had just lost someone she loved. She tried to gather herself to order a drink, but was choked with emotion so I spoke for her, “Would you like your usual? The little Ibarra Mocha, extra hot, just a scosh of whip cream.”
She nodded.
My heart went out to her. “Is there anything else I can do? Would you like a hug with that?”
I could see her fight to dismiss the kindness, and be independent and not needy and say no, but a yes broke through first. I was so delighted that she let me in, I ran around the counter and just held her for a few moments, absorbing her sadness in a warm embrace.
I only know this person through the cafe. Because she is my five days a week neighbor. But I was overjoyed to be able to be there for her.
Just like I am thrilled to add love and oatmeal and good health and chocolate chips all together in a bowl for someone who is just one step down from a stranger. I know next to nothing about him, but I know that like everyone, he wants to be loved, wants to feel like he is not alone in the world.
Being the coffee girl is more than a job, its a lifestyle. Being up at 4 a.m. means I need to go to bed by the time most people are finishing dinner, but I also get to be awake to see every sunrise. I make a point every morning as day is breaking to go out into the courtyard and stand under the blooming sky to greet the day with an open heart.
I adore the few other people who take notice of the miracle of a new day dawning and stop to appreciate the colorful show. When they come in for coffee, we ask one another, “Did you see the sunrise this morning? Wasn’t that a grand one?” Its like a secret society. The Sunrise Society. It reminds me of our human connection. When I look up and breathe in the first color of the day, somewhere out there I know a handful of others are doing the same. Appreciating the simple gifts, the natural beauty, grateful for it all. If you see every new day as a miracle, as a new beginning, imagine how incredible the week can get from there.
Every morning I stock the pastry case and slice the Everything Bagels in half and wrap them. The cutting board is covered in seeds and I could wipe it off in the garbage can before washing it but instead I take the extra steps to walk outside and shake those seeds and crumbs off for the birds. Three tiny House Sparrows come by around 6:20 to see if I am working. They eat the seeds and peer in the windows and together we wait for the sunrise.
Just after noon, Owen, the most rambunctious, complete little man in a two year old body will bounce in and play hide and go seek with me around the espresso machine. For three full minutes, my entire purpose in life is to keep that explosive little giggle going.
I will check in with the two regulars leaving for trips soon and ask them, “How many more days?” “Have you remembered to pack x, y and z?”
Most people just need someone to be present to them, to make eye contact and smile. And I acknowledge that for a few of the elderly people that come in their interaction with me may be their only interaction of the day. That’s how a coffee girl influences the world. If I am kind to them, that’s not the interaction that stands out, that is the interaction of the day and sets a tone of kindness, of goodness. Pouring hearts on top of their lattes so they have a little love in their cup just tops it off. I can feel that others are having a stressful day or a tough week and I go the extra mile to brighten their present moment.
I suppose this is something of a legacy. None of us really know when we are going to go. (Unless you’re intuitive and struggle with the weight of too many answers.) Perhaps our legacy is the answer to what is missing when we are gone? For example, when Mr. Rogers dies, there will be a huge pile of plaid grandpa sweaters and a song that even kids can hum, “Won’t you be my neighbor.” Most importantly, there will be a few handfuls of people who miss how he used to check in with them, and that feeling that their life was important to someone. I believe that’s a bigger concept than we give credit to. Like these cookies, they may not change that man’s disposition, or his diagnosis or blood platelet count but they will be sweet kindness. They type that melts in your mouth, stirs your heart. Then again, who knows, maybe they will change something. I believe there is a simple, everyday magic in knowing you are cared about. That’s my magic. Changing the world, improving the lives of others with kindness, through lattes and one cookie at a time.
