Hank (none of these names are real, but the people are) stands
outside the coffee shop where I work, staring at customers who are
trying to enjoy the sunshine and a cup of coffee. He doesn’t say
anything to them, but by standing only a few feet away and staring
at them, he makes them uncomfortable.
Hank (none of these names are real, but the people are) stands outside the coffee shop where I work, staring at customers who are trying to enjoy the sunshine and a cup of coffee. He doesn’t say anything to them, but by standing only a few feet away and staring at them, he makes them uncomfortable.
When he comes into the store, his overwhelming body odor hangs in the air even after he has left. Inside the store, he sometimes talks to other customers, or panhandles for the change he needs for coffee.
The first time I saw Bobby, I was in my car waiting for a light to change. He was pacing back and forth on the parking strip between a gas station on the road, shouting and gesturing. Suddenly he flung himself to the ground, and lay there flat on his back. Since he continued to shout, I knew he hadn’t collapsed or passed out.
Now he frequently comes to the shop where I work. He likes to root through the outdoor trash and drink the half-empty discarded drinks. One day he stashed a bag of avocados and radishes near the trash. I understand from the police that he’s not a thirsty homeless person, but a methamphetamine victim, still living at home.
Rosa comes into the store, stashes her backpack and rolling bag by the condiment bar, and orders a small cup of coffee. She is polite and friendly, and drinks her coffee in silence before going outside for a cigarette.
These three people, and some others, have given me a lot of food for thought about the meanings of hospitality and compassion.
Our coffee shop prides itself on being welcoming to all. We want every customer to be greeted with a genuine smile and by name if possible. We like to get to know our regulars – what drink they like, a bit about their work, their kids, their hobbies – since so often they come in for coffee on their way between one and the other.
Since being welcoming is so important to us, it took me awhile to understand that my hospitality to the many (most of our customers) was being damaged by my hospitality to the few – in this case, Hank. We finally had to ask him, then insist, that he not come into the store.
Once, when I was asking him to leave, another customer reproached me for being unkind.
What would you do?
In the case of Bobby, a stern look from me accompanied by a wagging finger usually sends him running. The police have said we can file a trespassing complaint where after one warning, he’ll be arrested if he comes back. Would time in jail do him any good? Would it keep him away after he got out?
What would you do?
We don’t mind Rosa, and neither do most of our customers. She is, in fact, a customer herself, just with more baggage than most. However, a few customers rush to tell me when she’s there, or if she uses the restroom, as if she were invading their turf. A couple of these are vocal church-goers. It makes me wonder what they are learning there.
I am respectful to each of these people and some of our other troublesome visitors. I use their names. I smile and ask politely. But in the big picture I believe that the comfort of the many outweighs the convenience of the few.
Am I right? What would you do?
