karma?

Walking into Starbucks, I silently groaned at the line ahead of me. Two feet into the doorway and I'm already stopped. There are at least six or seven people in front of me waiting their turn. I stand there unhappily and begin the judgment. "Seriously people? What are you doing here at five to ten on a Friday morning? Don't you have to work? And if not, should you really be spending your money on overpriced coffee and pastries?" Of course, I was exempt from this judgment. I was there after spending the first couple hours of the morning at the County Clerk's office looking over a client's file- of which the only thing I had actually learned was that he probably was not going to pay us. (Three other private lawyers had been discharged and two cited that they were withdrawing for the client's failure to pay his bill. Thank you, court records.)

There was the woman at the register who suddenly forgot what it was she came to order and decided to painstakingly review the entire menu on the wall in the desperate hopes of triggering a memory of her drink. Then the young mother who, juggling child, oversized-designer purse, car keys to her SUV, oversized-designer wallet, and sippy cup, chatted away on the cell phone about how stressful her financial situation was to a compassionate friend who clearly understood her position. Then two men in suits who stood close, but not too close, and made remarks about the college basketball games the night before in a lame attempt to mask the awkwardness of having to wait in line with one another, without having really anything to talk about.

Man 1: "You watch the game last night?"

SHORT PAUSE.

Man 2: "Yeah."

PAUSE.

Man 1: "Cal is terrible."

LONGER PAUSE.

Man 2: "Yeah, they were really flat."

PAUSE.

Man 1: "But did you see the UConn score."

PAUSE.

Man 2: "I know. Wow"

I was mid-judgment of some giggly teens when I noticed the man in front of me. Probably mid-late 40's, maybe early 50-s. Taller fellow, longish hair, beard. Not dirty but not tidy either. His clothes were ragged and worn. As he stood there, he bounced his knee a bit which made me think he was nervous or unsure. He gently shook his fist next to his bouncing leg as he waited. Faintly, I heard the sound of change rattling. I watched him as the line shrank in front of us. He was careful to not look at anyone directly and kept his eyes to the menu on the wall behind the register. As he got closer to the front, right before it was to be his turn, he stepped over to the right, effectively getting out of the line. The cashier and I made eye contact. I turned my head to the right to now look at the man. She took the clue and called out to the guy. "Sir? Can I get your drink started for you?" Still not making eye contact with anyone, his only response was, "I'd like a coffee."

It was painfully clear, he did not know the proper Starbucks protocol. Intrigued, I stepped closer to hear their conversation. She replied, "what size would you like?" Again he looked up to the menu board, searching for an answer. "Uh, how much is the large?" Without hesitation, she responded "155" and waited. Silently he now moved from the right of the register to the far left. All the way past the glass display case, down to the counter where they handed you your egg sandwich and told you to have a nice day. He put his fist, knuckles down, to the counter and slowly opened it. Change spilled out. He began to parse out nickels and dimes and quarters, all the while counting in a low, rough whisper.

The next clerk, astute in her duties and determined to not be distracted by the homeless man, called out to me. "Ma'am, can I get your drink started for you." I stepped up and years of experience kicked in. "Yes please. I'd like a grande, decaf, soy latte, all the way to the top." While she efficiently filled in the corresponding boxes on the side of my 30% post recycled cardboard cup, I glanced down the bar to my left at the man still counting his change. I looked into my wallet and began to pull out money for my $3.60 order.

That's right about when the Catholic guilt kicked in. Like embarrassment, I could feel it creeping up my neck and into my face. My heart started racing and I could feel sweat in my armpits. I hate this feeling. I hate embarrassment. I hate feeling over-privileged and hate that I hate being fortunate. In the midst of my self-hate, I noticed the man coming back towards the register, still not making eye contact. He was now next to me and without thinking, I put my left hand gently on his right shoulder. I managed to quietly spit out, "Can I get your coffee for you?" He didn't seem to notice or hear me and still tried to pay. The clerk stood there astounded. She just stared at me. A little louder this time, I said, "why don't I get your coffee today and you get me next time?" He turned and looked at me. I noticed that he had light blue - almost pale - eyes and when he smiled, he was missing most of his teeth. That being said, we didn't make eye contact. I couldn't. I heard him say "thank you" but I had turned back to the clerk. I didn't see him again but then again, I wasn't actually looking.

Still shocked, the clerk who took my order said "that was SO nice." Overemphasis included. I responded, "could I also have a sausage and egg sandwich?" Honestly, I didn't want the sandwich. All I really wanted was to shut her up and manage to get out of there without being noticed. Thinking I hadn't heard her, she tried it louder. "That was REALLY nice of you." I gave a quick nod of acknowledgment, a tight smile and asked if the sandwich had cheese on it. She took the cue and placed my order. I paid and walked to the far right towards the coffee counter.

As I waited for my latte and egg sandwich, a woman approached me. "I just saw what you did. That was very generous of you." I mumbled something about good karma points and began to stare death rays at the barrista. Inside I was screaming at him to steam the damn soy milk faster. My new friend pondered aloud, "I never think to do things like that." I hmmed and began to pull napkins from the dispenser.

The truth was, I don't know what caused me to do it. I knew I didn't want to embarrass the man or make him feel like it was charity. I know I never want to feel that way. Was it really my Catholic guilt? Did I want praise from the other coffee drinking strangers? Did I think that my gesture would give him the encouragement he needed to change his current situation? Was I buying my cosmic karma points for not trusting or believing in the client who I was checking up on?

Probably a little of all of the above. But somewhere along the line, I have learned that people are more accepting of help if they feel like they are doing the favor for you. Few ever want to feel that they are incapable in someway or that anyone feels sorry for them.

Whether it's family, a client, our boss or a stranger at the coffee shop, treating everyone with respect is not nearly as noble or easy as we lead ourselves to believe.