It happened over coffee one day

Mahi Ahluwalia

THERE he was, sitting alone at a coffee shop, wondering which coffee to buy. There was much to choose from — vanilla, chocolate, Irish, hazelnut. After a while, perplexed with the wide varieties at Joe, he chose the one he drank every time; “one Americano, please!”

Even the waiter knew what he was going to order; he already had his coffee prepared. “Here’s your ‘caffe Americano’, Sir, would you like to order anything else?” 

He wondered how much did it require to utter words with such politeness, without even a pinch of harshness. 

“No, thanks!” he answered, keeping his eyes on the brewed espresso with added hot water, lending it a similar strength, but different flavour from the drip coffee. The waiter strolled off to the counter.

It seemed like he was waiting for someone: his eyes black and gaze intense. If one looks into them, probably one could tell he was very upset over something.

He sipped his coffee and his expressions made it clear that the adrenaline had shot up in his bloodstream, dilating the pupil slightly; resulting in a sharper vision. His  mood began to pick up, enough for him to feel the need to talk with someone.

He had read somewhere that coffee stimulated the release of dopamine, a feel-good hormone which promoted the feeling of contentment.

Probably this was the reason why he often came here when he was sad. He would want to talk to the waiter who served him most times.

The waiter, no older than 21, looked smaller and thinner for his age, with patches of beard and a slight moustache. “Excuse me!” The waiter emerged within moments. He asked him, out of nowhere, why he worked there.

The waiter, slightly overwhelmed, replied: “Sir, I have a sister to take care of!” 

“And your parents?” 

“I never saw my father, Sir, my mother died giving birth to my sister. She is only a year younger.”

The waiter walked off towards the other table, oozing the same politeness. The man thought about it: the waiter had faced many hardships in life, but was still exuding effervescence and fighting against his fate, that too, without so much as a frown. 

He worked in a café, would not be earning much for sure, but was courteous even to those who bullied him or were sarcastic.

“On the other side, I’m sitting here, sulking, lambasting my fate,” he mulled, remembering how his company underwent liquidation a few months ago. Inspired by the young man, he thought of building his empire again.

Feeling euphoric, he left the cafeteria, leaving behind a note and the amount due for his Americano.

The waiter read the note — a simple  “Thank you”. And with it, an extra 500 bucks for his sister.