Tiny Mercies

Today, I discovered a person of uncommon stature and quality. I was getting a latte at Victrola on Pike Street, one of Seattle’s valorous non-global coffee joints. I was going to order a latte, and discovered that I was nineteen cents short of the $3.19 cost of the beverage. The barrista –who, though I can’t see very well I am inclined to believe is unspeakably handsome—has often served me before, and with unique aplomb, and offered to cover the shortfall. The latte, which I’m drinking right now, tastes like it was steamed in one of Heaven’s own cafes.

An act of generosity like that, seemingly so tiny and so rare, is worth a lot to me, and should be worth a lot to anyone in these straitened times. He could have said no, and it is very likely that I would have taken it on the chin and bought more coffees from him in the future, as he is, even without little acts of charity like this, an extremely talented barrista. But the point is that he made the world, for this one customer, just a little more welcoming and warm on a crisp October day. And that little gift of nineteen cents –which I will feel delighted to repay in tips and business in coming months—might as well be a check for a thousand dollars. All hail the noble barrista. Because of him, this October day it is summer in Seattle.