Coffee Shop Hospitality

I'm sitting with a stranger.

This morning I had the audacity to invite myself along for a trip to one of Ben and my favorite local breakfast spots. We make an effort to go out for breakfast once a month, just the two of us, but today he has a meeting.

We came early so we could eat and chat before his guest arrived. We almost always get the house coffee, a mean breakfast sausage burrito to share (if you saw its size, you'd understand), and something to satisfy the sweet tooth.

Today we chatted about the New Year's goals we had set during our previous breakfast out, our differing upbringings, and our thoughts on Unbroken, the life story of Louis Zamperini, which we've been listening to on audiobook. I was so engrossed in conversation with my love that I failed to notice how ridiculously crowded it had become.

It was about time for Ben's meeting when I started to gather my things to move to another spot so they could have some privacy. Looking around, I couldn't find one table that wasn't occupied. I spotted just beyond us a table for three where there sat one girl (probably a college student) busily working behind a laptop screen. I don't think she'd mind if I used the other half of the table, I thought. Ben suggested I ask.

Apparently someone else had the same idea because not soon later I observed someone approach to ask if they may occupy the unused half of the table. The young woman looked up with a big, blank stare, then turned to see if indeed all other tables were taken. Her expression was not obliging. The person found another spot, and I didn't try my luck.

I began walking about to see what I could find (Ben insisting I just stay with him, but I couldn't agree to crashing his meeting, the sweetheart) and just when I was beginning to lose faith an older man approached me to ask if I was looking for a table. He said he wouldn't be here long and I'd be welcome to join him. He explained with a smile that he felt bad about taking up a table that could seat four just for himself. What an aggressive form of kindness!

This small, unexpected gesture of coffee shop hospitality squelched the cynicism I felt creeping up. It taught me (outside of my idealistic theories) that no little act of kindness is wasted and we just don't know what it may mean to someone. It is powerful.

Thank you, Neil, who I will probably never see again, for extending kindness and hospitality to a stranger in such a small but profound way.