Coffee and Kindness

I ironed a pile of my husband’s clothes this morning and very much wanted to count that as an act of kindness. I really hate ironing and do it so infrequently it absolutely could be considered a random act. But I think at a bare minimum, we should be nice to the people we live with. So it did not qualify for today.

On my way to work I stopped at Starbucks. After paying for my coffee I gave the cashier money and asked her to use it for the next person who came in after I left. I had some unease about paying for what could very well be someone’s triple tall half caf no whip fat free caramel macchiato. I frequently snicker to myself in a judgmental sort of way when I hear those orders. And I have been snickered at for insisting I only like the bold taste of Starbucks coffee. Should I have gone to a locally owned café and paid the equivalent of coffee for five people instead? Maybe.

My sister-in-law told me about the time years ago when she drove up to a toll booth, money in hand, and found out from the attendant that the person ahead of her had paid the toll. It is a memory that has remained vivid over time. Perhaps the Starbucks customer will remember this as well, do something similar for someone else, and then it won’t really matter what coffee shop it happened in.