My A-Typical Coffee Break

On Friday I went out for some fancy coffee at a local coffee shop, and on my way home, stopped to get gas and a car wash, in a less-nice part of town. While I was pumping gas, a girl who looked to be about my age but much more worn down by life came over and asked if I had 50 cents to give her so she could make a phone call. Truthfully, I told her I didn’t have any change. She paused, and then asked, “Well do you have a cell phone I can borrow to make a quick phone call?”

Well, yes. I do. And it’s pink and has a ton of minutes. So not being totally heartless, I let her borrow it while I finished pumping and got my receipt.

“It went to voicemail,” she said, handing it back to me sadly. “Thank you.” She sounded like she was about to cry. I felt bad, but what else could I do? So she walked off, and I drove over to the car wash. Just as I was pulling in, the phone rang from the number that had just been dialed. I answered, hoping I wouldn’t lose reception as the suds started.

“Hello, who’s this?” said the person on the other end.

“This is Cat. But I think the person you’re calling for is someone I just met in the parking lot. I don’t know who she is, she just asked to borrow my phone to make a call.”

“Oh! Thanks. Um, what did she look like?” asked the guy.

“Well, she was wearing a hat, and a light brown coat…” I started.

“Was she kind of… dirty?” he asked, filling in for me.

“Er, yes.”

“Did she have thick glasses?”

“Yes!”

“Oh, thank you,” said the person. I was guessing it was maybe a social worker, or someone, so I told him where I was, he thanked me again, and we hung up.

As I pulled out of the car wash in my shiny, new, clean car, sipping my froo-froo coffee drink, I saw the girl, still standing on the corner of the parking lot, looking kind of unsure about where to go. So I drove over and flagged her down, and said, “Hey, the guy you called just called back. Do you want to try again?”

“Thank you!” she said profusely, and grabbed the cell phone.

I felt like maybe I had redeemed a little bit of yuppie karmic guilt, and sipped my coffee drink while she chatted. She didn’t go far, but was making an effort to be quiet, along the busy street, which I thought was a little odd.

Then I heard her say something about, “Well, just get a nickel.” And then, “don’t worry about it, I’ll set it up…. I’ll get them and meet you at X location at 4:30.”

And I thought to myself, I don’t suppose counseling comes in nickel bags these days.

So much for the karmic points.