Simple Acts of Kindness: Benevolent Baristas

For me, coffee in Paddington usually means heading to one of three places: Anouk (where I can also chow down on some fresh and flavorsome food); Merlo (one of Brisbane's most recognized roasting houses); or Hamptons Home Living (a homewares shop/cafe with a gorgeous deck out back where you can sip lattes and take in the views over leafy Brisbane.)

But, yesterday, when I needed a refill of coffee beans and an afternoon energy boost, I took the advice of a friend and strolled on over to Urban Grind. 

With our grinder on the fritz, I ordered 400 grams of beans and asked the lovely 30-something barista to grind it up for me to use in my plunger. I asked about cold coffees, which I don't normally drink, but having just walked up the hill from my house to Latrobe Terrace in 30 degree heat, I was in the mood for something icy cold. After getting a sense of the kind of coffee I like (and don't like), he recommended the house-brewed iced coffee with a dash of milk. Yes thank you, I'll have one of those. 

Another barista rang me up. "That comes to seventeen dollars eighty," she told me. I asked if she took debit cards to which she replied, "Sorry, cash only." Uh oh, I thought to myself, looking over at the mustached and goateed barista already at the grinder with my beans. I counted out my coins. Fourteen dollars and ten cents was all I had. (Change in Australia includes $1 and $2 dollar coins; it adds up fast.) But before I could even tell her how much I had she said, "Don't worry about it, just bring it in next time." 

What? 

This wasn't just 20 cents she was talking about, this was $17.80! That's not chump change. And for all she knew there may never be a "next time." After all, with my accent, most people assume I'm just visiting. 

"Oh no," I said, a bit stunned. "I have fourteen dollars in change," I assured her, thinking we would just take the coffee off. "Great, well just drop us the rest next time you're by," she replied, smiling. I told her I'd duck down to the ATM. There was one a few blocks down. "Don't worry about it," she said. 

"Wow, thanks," I said, surprised but happy to know I'd still get my iced coffee.

I  took a seat on a low stool in front of a large open window that looked out to the street. A couple minutes later he delivered my tin of coffee and she delivered my chilled drink—both with a sincere smile.

As I left I promised to return soon with the money I owed. "Really, don't even worry about it," she called out.

I walked out of Urban Grind with delicious coffee in my belly and a huge smile smeared across my face. Pardon my cheesiness but People are awesome, and I'm loving my new neighborhood every day.