Homeless Man: 1 — Starbucks: 0
December 22, 2018 — Queens, N.Y.
I just worked a 16-hour (overnight) shift, went home, slept about 3 hours, and I’m headed out to do it all over again. Naturally, a stop at Starbucks is in order before I get back on the bus to that wretched place where they sign my paycheck.
It’s a blustery 40 degrees outside. Not too bad for December. The two days of steady rain has finally ended and the sun is coming out for the first time. I shield my eyes from its burning glare. (We night shift workers have a touch of vampire in us.)
There is a homeless man standing just outside the store…
“Good afternoon, Miss.”
I keep walking.
I act as though I can’t hear past my $300 Beats headphones, which aren’t even playing any music because my head is aching from my lack of sleep. At the moment they only serve to drown out the irksome noise of car horns and fire trucks, and deter people from asking me for directions or spare change.
But the headphones aren’t doing their job today.
“Please miss, can you spare a quarter?”
What in God’s name are you gonna get to eat with a quarter? I wonder.
I pass the harmless soul and walk inside. The warm air hits my face, scent of espresso is wafting through the air, Christmas carols are coming through the speakers overhead. Twenty or more people are scattered about, sipping their overpriced lattes, every last one immersed in their laptop, tablet or smart phone.
I join the back of the queue and look at my $400 Apple Watch.
It’s 2:29PM. I have a few minutes to sit down and eat. I wonder if they have my favorite cookies today.
I turn to check their usual spot on the shelf behind me and mistakenly bump a lady.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” I say, gently touching the arm of her cashmere coat.
God, I wish I had gotten more sleep!
Three hours isn’t too bad for a Saturday. But four would have been better.
“Next customer?”
“Hi how are you? Can I add this to my balance?” I ask, handing the young girl the $25 gift card my friend gave me for a Christmas present last night.
“Sure.”
As she makes the transaction the woman I bumped a moment earlier nudges my arm.
“That’s so sad,” she says, solemnly, gesturing behind the counter.
In front of us the barista is removing full plates of pastries and sandwiches from the pastry case and dumping them unceremoniously into a trash can.
“It’s such a waste. And this poor guy outside begging for food.”
“Oh, no, no, no,” I say, naively. “I think they donate it.”
I point to the large, conspicuous sign perched pretentiously on top:
DONATED NIGHTLY TO THE COMMUNITY.
“Oh! OK!” she says, expressing relief. But then we both look closer.
“No,” we conclude in unison.
Indeed, that’s the trash!
I order my latte and sausage, egg and cheese breakfast sandwich.
“$11.58.”
“How do you guys throw away so much food?!” I ask, as I hold my iPhone to the scanner to pay.
“I know,” she mutters, abashedly. “I used to think the same thing before I started working here…”
Her voice trails off and she doesn’t finish her sentence. I decide to help her out:
“So this sign is just a big lie?”
She smiles, flustered, but doesn’t say anything. I don’t press it. It’s not her fault. She’s probably an 18 year old college student just trying to earn some life experience and extra cash. Just one of Howard Schulz’s countless pawns holding up his coffee empire.
I don’t know a single person who doesn’t have to follow at least one rule at their own job that they find absurd. I follow many, myself.
I proceed to the waiting area to pick up my overpriced latte and breakfast sandwich. I must have witnessed them tossing perfectly good food a hundred times over the years, but the turn of events really bothers me today. Maybe it’s the homeless man outside looking for food when they’re 30 feet away dumping it all in the trash. Maybe it’s because Christmas is in 2 days. Maybe it’s because I’m super tired and overly sensitive.
Or maybe it’s because I had been under the impression for some time now that the company I regularly patronize was doing something commendable — come to find out that, not only is it not true, but that they continue to blatantly mislead the public and falsely represent themselves.
I try to do the math in my head.
Every single day, every single Starbucks…all that food!
I decide out of principle I’m going to give my food to the man outside. I’ll stop in at the pizza place and get myself a $2 slice of pizza.
I take my little brown bag and head outside, but of course now he’s no longer here.
It’s okay. It’s a sad fact that I don’t have to travel far to find another. Barely a block away I pass another man asking for help.
“Excuse me, Miss., could you help me get some food?”
I don’t think twice. I hand him my bag.
“What is it?” he asks, about to take it.
What IS IT? I wonder. Seriously?
“It’s FOOD! Do you want it or not?”
“Well, I don’t know what it is.”
Is he kidding me? Aren’t we always taught in life that beggers can’t be choosy? He sees the bewilderment on my face.
“It’s just… I don’t eat pork,” he explains.
I have to think for a moment and realize that, in fact, yes there is pork in here.
“You see,” he says. “I didn’t want to waste it. But thank you! God bless you! And have a beautiful day!”
I part ways with the man, who continues to bestow various blessings on me as I proceed down the street.
I could call him on the absurdity of it… you have the audacity to ask people for food and then be selective?
But all I see is a lone, hungry person who, in spite of his suffering, is willing to maintain his principles.
And that’s a hell of a lot more than I can say for Starbucks!
