It had been a long afternoon discussing my options with the realtor. I was considering relocating to a townhouse, and we had spent a few hours going over finances that seemed like a game of Monopoly. Numbers ran around in my head as I tried to figure on paper how all of it was going to work out in my favor. After we parted, I had to run an errand, and I discovered that my gas tank was in need of fuel. I began the process of trying to decide which station to go to since there is not a shortage of choices in my neighborhood. I had to make up my mind quickly, however, because the orange ‘out of gas’ light was shining brightly. Not wanting to drive down to my last fume, I turned on my blinker and abruptly made a right turn into a place that I generally didn’t frequent.
After pumping my car to full, I decided to reward myself with a cappuccino. Even though it was the dead middle of summer with August temperatures soaring into the 90s, the frothy warm substance in a cup sounded inviting. The addiction was in the beginning stages and there was just no fighting it. On my way in, a man in a dirty white shirt opened the door for me.
“Thank you,” I said.
His brown eyes matched his long single braid that went down the entire length of his back. I headed straight for the cappuccino machine to contemplate which size coffee I deserved after enduring all that talk of money. I went about my customary tasks including a walk to the ice machine to fill up my empty cup because I didn’t want to wait for my drink to cool down on its own. During all of this, my thoughts were on my meeting earlier and how much I could afford to spend to live in a new place. As I held my ice filled cup under the vanilla hazelnut version of my affection, I overheard,
“I need a quarter for that.” There was a long pause without any response that I could hear. Followed by the same woman saying,
“You cannot have a cup of ice water without giving me a quarter.”
I put the lid on my purchase and walked to the front of the store. There I saw the man who had held the door for me being confronted by the cashier.
Now that I was behind him, I noticed the softness of his voice.
“I need a cup of water.”
“You can have water in the fountain over there,” she said pointing in the direction of the bathrooms. I saw him drop his head.
I took better notice of him. Filthy fingernails, unclean pants, worn shoes.
“It is so hot outside. I would like to take a cup of ice water with me.”
“Then give me a quarter,” she snapped. She looked at me and rolled her eyes as if she assumed I was on her side against him.
“I don’t have a quarter,” he said again almost inaudibly. I noticed the extra change sitting right by her register but she made no move to offer him any.
“Then go get a drink at the fountain!”
I don’t know what bothered me more. Was it her callous nature or his down and out posture? Just to make sure we all knew what side I was on, I said,
“Here. I know I must have an extra quarter in here somewhere.” I put down my cup and jostled around in my purse and unearthed my last quarter.
He looked me straight in the eye and quietly said,
“Thank you,” with a vibrant smile. Such a small amount had brought him relief, and he asked me for nothing more.
Once he was out of the range of our conversation, I said to her,
“Does he get a straw too? Or will that cost extra?” I am not sure if she picked up on the angry undertone to my question, but I was checking to be sure she wouldn’t accuse him of stealing next.
As she rang up my coffee, and he was headed for the exit, he raised his cup to me with a word of thanks. I smiled and told him to keep himself cool in the heat.
“He could have gotten a drink at the fountain for free,” she snapped.
“But, he wouldn’t have been able to take it with him. It is hot out there today. ” I gave her a great chance to examine her approach to life. She gave me a curt and customary thanks for my patronage and turned her back to me.
I guess I was dismissed.
I got into my car and turned on the air conditioning full blast as I sipped on my hot beverage. A surge of gratitude hit at that minute while I sat in the parking lot. I had drove in moments before, fretting over my financial situation and thinking how poverty stricken my life seemed, and now with great clarity I could see how well taken care of I was. I wasn’t wandering the streets looking for a cup of ice water and not able to buy it for a quarter. I had a bed to sleep in, a bathroom, clean clothes, a bank account with money and the ability to transport myself all over town. My point of view of myself had changed rapidly.
I was left to wonder why the lady behind the counter was so hard hearted. Did she have to deal with this all the time during her shift and she had lost her compassion? No one must have ever let her in on a small but powerful secret: A generous person will prosper, whoever refreshes others will be refreshed.
It is never a mistake to help those who genuinely need it. It puts life into better perspective, and makes one grateful for every possession great and small. All of that just adds up to good common cents. (yes, I know how to really spell it)
6 thoughts on “Common Cents”
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