Two men come into a cafe.
One is dressed to the nines, the other, rags. He asks politely, if he sweeps the floor, would they give him breakfast. “Just cafa an a roll,” he says. The man in charge agrees.
The spruced up one says,”Look at him, if he stays, I’m calling the health department.”
I’m watching this scene like a one-act play, about to join the cast.
“This man is willing to work for something he needs,” I say, trying to keep my composure. “I find it very inspiring, not to mention honorable, and all you seem to see is some unfortunate packaging.”
He looks at me before taking a couple of bills from, what appears to be, a Tiffany money clip, tossing them on the counter.
“Just feed-em fast so he gets the fuck outta here.”
“l want no chair-dy,” the man says, “you keep yer money, cause yer gonna need it, ackin like that.”
Boy, spoken like a true apostle who, despite his tatters, proudly leaves.
I sit on the fence deciding whether to guard my peace or rip Senor Pompous a new one. Then I remember something I heard in 12 Step…rather than you, let God speak.
So, God, you’re on.
“Believe me when I say, you will pay a price higher than coffee and a roll for humiliating that poor man. I feel for you sir, having such a cruel and heartless streak.”
He looks surprisingly sullen and a bit embarrassed before taking flight. When he gets to the door, he turns, while waiting for the verbal assault I assume is en route, yet none comes.
He looks deflated, his bluster drained. I guess that’s what happens when God steps up to the plate.
Hey God, when you’re good, you’re really good.