You know how when you’re in a hurry, everything conspires against you? How the lights are always red, and the crosswalks are full of ancient people pushing their walkers at a snail’s pace, so that even when the lights turn green, you’re still stuck at the intersection, waiting for the crosswalk to clear or Christmas to come, whichever happens first?

Well, yesterday I was on my way to work, running late, when I realized that I hadn’t had a cup of coffee or eaten breakfast.

A sensible person would have kept driving. I am not a sensible person, and I was born hungry, so I stopped at Starbucks.

The drive-through was ten cars deep, so I parked and went inside.

Good. There were only three people ahead of me. My mouth watered at the smell of coffee and pastries. I decided on a tall dark roast and a croissant. They would tide me over. I checked my Starbucks account. Good. Nearly twenty dollars. Paying would be a matter of flashing my phone at the sensor.

While I waited my turn, the first person ordered his coffee and moved along. The second, a tattooed teenager, was definitely down with the system. She flashed her phone, paid, and scurried off.

I looked at my phone. I was late, yes, but not too late. I began to relax.

The woman in front of me placed her order – a vente mocha latte with extra whip and a cherry on top, or some such thing. Then she changed her mind and asked for a grande caramel macchiato, again with extra whip and whatever. Then she added a buttered scone to her order – warmed, of course.

I was no longer relaxing.

At last, she was ready to pay. “Oh, no,” she said. “I can’t find my wallet.” Her purse was the size of a garbage can, and from the looks of things she used it for that purpose.

The queue was now fifteen people deep behind us.

The barista drummed her fingers on the counter.

Suddenly, macchiato lady lost all control. She opened her handbag and tipped the contents onto the floor. Muttering, she tossed bits of paper, candy, and various unidentifiable objects in every direction.

She started crying.  That put me over the edge. I was now fifteen minutes late.

I shrugged in the barista’s direction and headed for the door, still hungry and caffeine-deprived.

I never thought to do what the man behind me did. As I pushed the door open, I heard him say “Why don’t you let me pay for that?”

I glanced back at macchiato lady. The look of gratitude on her face would have sustained me all day.

Article by Sandra Leigh

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