Friday Freestyle
The Customer
A Fictional Short Story
There was this gentleman who came into the coffee shop every morning. I call him a gentleman because he was as much the iconic definition of the modern gentleman as one could imagine. As he would walk in through the glass doors and to the counter, he would greet everyone who met him with eye contact and gift them a smile paired with a pleasant greeting of the day. This was pure sunshine, no matter what the weather.
He placed a routine order every time, it was the exact opposite of his spirits embodied in a beverage. Black Coffee. Dark, bitter, and scalding.
Him and I had begun to spark up a daily conversation after he established himself as a regular. He would joking point out his age by noting that he was past his mid-life crisis, and that he had no real rush to be anywhere on any given day. As I got to know him, he would always want to know more about me. He would often offer words of encouragement or clever little quips to make your mouth and your heart smile.
This relationship of barista and customer continued for several years, every time I worked he would come in, we would delightfully chat, and then he would wish me a pleasant day in some peculiar way. It was so simple, so enriching. It became the highlight of my day, and would always steer my course towards that silver lining in the clouds.
Until one day. He stopped coming in. I had felt he was on a vacation, or perhaps welcomed a new grandchild into the world. I had no idea, he was often asking me about my life and myself and seldom talked about himself, even if I poked and prodded.
Then one very busy Thursday morning, a lady who had quietly been waiting in line finally got her chance to speak with me. She gently spoke to me, "Tom always loved coming here. He talked about you each day when he came back to the house. He wanted me to let you know that you are someone he truly cherished in his life. From both of us, thank you for being so wonderful to him over the years."
Bewildered with my mind racing like a rush of blood to the head... I simply asked, "Where is Tom?"
"Tom had cancer. He passed away a few days ago. We would like you to come to his service."
"I will be there."
"Would you like to speak at his wake?" she asked as she was writing down the information.
---
This church was cold, like a dead body. I was shaking, sweating. I was going to speak about Tom before his son. The pressure was immense. As I walked up to the podium, I looked at my note cards. Carefully written and planned, it seemed inadequate to describe this gentleman. Looking over the crowded cathedral, I inhaled deeply. Paused.
"Tom was a highlight of my day. A true ray of sunshine. Polite, positive, sweet, and always cared about others. The only thing I had to offer in return to him was coffee, which was never free, and a smile I could pair with a brief and pleasant chat before I had to move on to the customer behind him. To him that was plenty, and he graciously accepted it. I have begun to try and be more like him. Consistently upbeat and shedding my positive energy like sunlight around me. It's not quite as radiant as he managed to be. Tom was a gentleman in the truest form. God is enjoying his light now."
I bowed my head briefly. The audience sat in deafening silence. I walked off the stage and sat down. The service continued with a similar tone and message throughout. It was a glorious tribute to the man he was. I did not want to be him, that was impossible, I wanted to simply be more like him.
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