Many moons ago, my mother kicked me out of the house. It was Christmas day. She “let” me stay in the house until Christmas was over (thanks, I think?) and the next day, she told me to pack my things and get out. I stuffed as much as I could into a suitcase. Sweaters billowed out of the sides as I sat atop the suitcase, wrestling with the zipper as tears streamed down my face.
As you can imagine, when the holidays come around, I don’t feel particularly warm or fuzzy. In fact, I try to avoid them at all costs. Not Christmas carols, no holiday cards, no parties or mistletoe. Just an ordinary day. I typically do a good job of pretending that the holidays aren’t happening, numbing myself by diving into work, watching lots of movies, going to yoga, and surrounding myself with friends who can provide a good laugh or a shoulder to cry on when my emotions go sour.
For a long time, I worked every holiday. It was easy-I was in the food and beverage industry and while other people resented the task, I looked forward to it-the routine, the process, the policy and procedure. I was one of the younger shift supervisors to be promoted to Assistant Manager at Starbucks-I was 22 at the time, which doesn’t sound terribly young, but it is when you’re overseeing the operations of 40 employees and a $25,000 a week business (that’s a LOT of coffee in case you didn’t do the math).
When I was promoted, I moved to the Starbucks in Beth Israel Hospital in the Longwood area. God, I hated that store. My previous stores were lively and cheery. The customers were friendly and welcoming. I knew them, the names of their spouses/kids/pets/in-laws. I knew when they were going on vacation. I knew exactly what temperature they liked their lattes, how many pumps of mocha went into their drinks. And then I was transferred to “The Deathbucks” I fondly called it. It was cold, the people were rude-doctors don’t want to talk to lowly baristas after they’ve been on call for umpteen hours. And sick people aren’t exactly in the mood to chat. I really resented being sent to that store. I whined to my District Manager who told me that he’d try to transfer me out as soon as there was an opening at another store. I spent about four months at “The Deathbucks.” My last week was the first week of January in 2005. It was right before Christmas, and I was certainly not looking forward to the nurses coming in 5 minutes before we closed, order 27 drinks and not tipping a cent. Truth be told, I always gave those bitches decaf. I did have my favorites-I always did, wherever I went. They’re the customers who I treated more like friends than patrons. They had something sparkley inside them that called out to me. Dan was my first favorite at that store.
Dan had stage four melanoma-he’d lost an arm and had Had sterotactic brain surgery three times by the time I met him, but he never stopped smiling. Never….
“Karen is in the back,” Dave says.
I sigh, and set the safe so I can put the cash away in case my employees need me.
“Do you need me?”
I see Dan and his friend and give him a 1-fingered “I’ll be right there” hand motion. I put the deposit back int he safe. I’ll finish it later-it’s not important. Not as important as this. It’s Saturday and I have all the time in the world to get it done. Besides, I would drop everything even on a busy day for Dan and his friend.
“Hello, Handsome!” I squeal. I called Dan “Mr. Handsome” one day on a whim and he blushed like a schoolboy. Dan is worn down by the treatments he’s receiving. He’s still handsome to me, and i know he doesn’t feel that way. Dan perks up and gives me a smile and a wave. He looks so tired and his voice is so hoarse. We’ve gotten really good at pantomiming to each other at the register, speaking in points, nods, smiles, and eye contact.
“How are you doing?” I ask. He nods and looks towards the floor. Now I really know that he’s having a bad day. Whenever he can’t talk very well, it means he’s having a rough day. I already know Dans order.
“Can I have a shot for a red eye, please,” I say to Cassie. She’s not paying attention, so i pour the shot, drop it in his coffee, put the lid on the cup and walk back to the register. “Anything else today, handsome?” He’s looking through the glass into the pastry case. I see him eye-ing a Cranberry Bliss Bar. I grab the tongs, and point them towards the pastry. He shakes his head “no,” but I know better. Even if he doesn’t eat it. Even if he eats the tiniest bite, it’ll make me happy just for him to have it.
I place it in a bag and slide it toward him. He takes his credit card out of his wallet and I look away, like I don’t see him there. I’m being coy. I start whistling and look away. “Handsome, it’s on me today, I say.” I look back at him and he’s beaming.
“How come?” he asks.
“Because you’re my favorite! And I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.”
“You just made my heart smile,” he says. He puts his only hand over his heart. It’s the sweetest thing I’ve heard in a long time…maybe ever. I can feel a lump in my throat forming. I dig my fingernails into my khakis and swallow it down. I refuse to allow the tears to well up in my eyes. This is a man who is dying and I made his heart smile with coffee. “You’re very special,” he says. “Thank you.”
He walks over to the condiment bar to add the milk and sugar to his coffee. I let out a sigh and head back into the office to finish the deposit. I take a little trip to the bank, drop it in the night box, and head over to CVS to buy Cassie and Dave some treats for working so well with me this morning. I grab some candy canes, Hershey Kisses, and marshmallow Santas.
I get back to the ‘Bucks and throw my apron on, walk out onto the floor, and send Dave on his last ten. I see Dan and his friend through the plexi-glass window sitting at one of the tables. I give him a wave and make a heart sign with my two index fingers and point to him and wink. He smiles and laughs. I get a kick out of this every time. I realize I haven’t done much today, so I begin fiddling around with the brewers, cleaning as I go. Dan walks over to the counter.
“You don’t know what you did for me today. You made my day. Thank you so much. You really don’t understand how special you made me feel.” His voice is so hoarse that I lean close to him so I can hear what he’s saying.
“Dan, you make my day every time you come in here. I have to tell you though, I’m leaving next Saturday and going to a different store.” He looks shocked and says, “I’ll see you Wednesday…”
I never saw Dan again. I moved to a new store and got “too busy” with life to check in. Dan passed away a couple of months later in March. And I wish I’d told him that he made my heart smile before he died. So this year, my Christmas wish is that you know-each and every one of you in my life-that you make my heart smile.
For more information about Dan’s story:
The Boston Channel-Boston Marathon
Boston.com Running in Spirit
