So I'm sitting here at a little cafe in NYC, I just dropped my kids at their educationally adept daycare (you know, age appropriate toys, little stations, caregiver ratio of 2 to 1, bright colors, sleek furniture, fish to feed, puppets that come to life--it's like a freaking wonderland for a 3 year in that place & somehow when I pick them up at the end of the day they are perfectly clean and the women are not harried and all the toys are picked up and placed in their perfectly labeled containers and my kids have both taken naps and used the potty and not eaten any boogers--pretty much a complete 180 from what happens at a day at our house, which is why I never let my husband pick up the kids, lest he actually come to think this kind of irrational behavior is normal?!)...Anyway, yikes, where was I? Oh yes, the kids are not my responsibility for an entire 8 1/4 hours--yippee! The weight of world is off my shoulders! I can do anything, be anyone 1/3 of a whole day. Wow.
So what do I do? I go to this little cafe on the ground floor of the Time Life Building (where the kids are in their educationally adept, company paid for daycare--to be read 'expensive'). I am going to get so much done. I check my e-mail, balance my checkbook online, and begin working on an on-going project (a ridiculously complicated chart plotting the weights and BMI's and loss percentages of Biggest Loser contestants and comparing it to past seasons). Finally, with the din of radio and the random conversations around me as background noise I am able to work and start feeling 'in the zone' (I hate phrases like that, but sometimes they just describe it).
"Can anyone help me out?' That's what he said. Who's he talking to? Does he think I work here? I don't have on a uniform...I don't have a name tag on. Do I somehow look official? He, for the record is a man in his 30's, light skin bi-racial guy with a face covered in freckles and a ruddy orange sweatshirt. To be honest, I don't want to be bothered. I want to go on working on my project and being an anonymous person in the corner of the cafe hogging a table that happens to have an outlet next to it and drinking the water and coffee I bought and the sunflower seeds and dried prunes I brought. But maybe he's lost and just doesn't know where to order? Or he's not sure where the subway is?
I say, rather naively (especially for a girl whose lived here more than 2 minutes), 'what do you need help with'? 'Something to eat' is the curt, loud response carried with an intense, audacious stare.
Oh shit. What if this is the 2nd coming of Christ? What if I say no and then when I go and meet with my accountant later he tells me there was a mistake on my taxes and I owe $5000? What if I say no and then get hit by a taxi on my way out? What if that Hawaiian guy from 20/20 pops out and tells me I was actually being secretly taped for the 'What would you do' segment and failed miserably? What if my grandpa was watching me from heaven and shook his head sadly at his snotty granddaughter. How could I say no?
'I have an apple' I say. 'Okay!' he says. I proceed to look voraciously through my bag, glad to know he's hungry and didn't say, 'no thanks' like most people do when they ask for money and I offer them the perennial apple that I usually have in bag. My papers fall on the floor. My pen falls on the floor. My freckled-faced caller picks up the papers and pen dutifully. I can't find the frickin' apple--I took it out this morning because I wasn't going to eat it and needed the room in my bag for the organic carrots and organic cheese and organic rolled up turkey I packed instead.
'You know what, just go up and order something for yourself' I find myself saying. A bewildered stare meets my eyes. 'You paying?' he says suspiciously. 'Of course' I say quietly. Shit, what if he orders $50 in food I think. I should have just grabbed a gift card and put $20 on it. He orders and I meet him at the register with my Visa Marriott Rewards card that I use so I can get points toward the Fiji vacation I want to take.
Fiji vacation. Organic cheese. Organic carrots. Who have I become?
Why on earth do I deserve these things? For God sakes there are people dying of starvation all over the world. And I discuss the differences between the Jewish preschool and the YMCA preschool and if we can afford the $5000+/year pricetags. And when we will be renovating our perfectly fine (albeit out-of -style & out-of-date) kitchen? And do I like this paint shade from Benjamin Moore or this other one? And shouldn't we hire an arborist?
$50? What would it have hurt? Sure, I couldn't have made a huge difference, really I couldn't have. But, what if that act of kindness inspired Mr. freckles? What if it inspired the check-out clerk as she puts herself through college? What if it inspired someone else? One small act is sometimes the catalyst of something big.
I'm glad the orange sweatshirt guy was able to eat his bacon, egg & cheese on roll with a large orange juice. I wish I hadn't muttered under my breath 'your welcome' as I walked away after paying and saying, 'I hope you have a nice day'. Afterall, why on earth would manners be important to someone who is told to fuck off by the world probably 500 times a day. Maybe this meal will be the only one he eats all week.
I wish I had done more.
Maybe by writing this I have.
Be grateful. Be inspired. Do something for someone today. Even if you think they don't deserve it. Even if you are feeling bad for yourself. Do something. Do something and expect nothing in return. Not even a thank you. Be that catalyst. Please. Pay it forward for Mr. Freckles sake.
Nice topic and post, as we were just talking about what things can happen in the medicine industry.
Posted by: mbt sale | July 02, 2011 at 08:54 AM