She was working behind the counter at one of the local coffee shops. Ice blue hair, a steel ring through both sides of her lip, several piercings through her ears, and one in her nose with the halfway-shaved head, looking a little like Gary Oldman in The Fifth Element. There were a few visible tattoos, but I couldn’t make out exactly what they were but the coloring was superb! Behind her plastic, black glasses frames was a soft look, almost like she was saying, “Hey. It’s cool. You can talk to me. I promise I won’t bite.” She wanted to be different from everyone else, separate from what she considered polite culture. At least, that was what her look screamed to every patron of the coffee shop.

               My attention was drawn to the soft look of her eyes. The look that says, “I’m not a bad person.” So, as I do often, I started a conversation with her.

               “Good morning. And how are you today?”

               For a moment, she stared at me. I felt like I had dropped a boulder into a still lake, the ripples of my voice touching her in a way that the others before had not, almost as if I was seeing her for who she was, not who she was trying to be.

               “Um, yeah. Well. I’m good. I guess.”

               “That doesn’t sound like much of an answer,” I replied, checking the reader board to see if their menu had changed, which, much to my dismay, didn’t.

               “It’s. Well.” She stared down at her feet for a minute, then looked back at me. “What can I get for you?”

               I looked into her eyes, and something inside her was begging me to ask the next question, “Tell you what. I’ll order, and then you tell me how you’re doing – for real this time. Deal?” I heard the woman behind me tapping her foot impatiently, that click-click-click on the tile floor sounding like a metronome. “I want an Americano with two extra shots of espresso.” I turned around, smiling at the woman behind me. “I’m sorry. This won’t take but a minute.”

               She was wearing her designer sunglasses, inside. I guess she thought she was way too important to take them off. I know it wasn’t the lighting because it’s rather dark inside the place, giving the café a peaceful feel. “Look,” she started in on me. “I have yoga in ten minutes, and I need my double-half-calf caramel mocha latte for the caffeine. Otherwise, Jeannie’s workout will kick my butt, and I can’t have that.” Her dress, style, and purse slung over her shoulder screamed wealth, and she was better than everyone else waiting for their coffee. Even her yoga pants were brand new, a brand name I’d never heard of, not that I follow women’s fashion. But I do appreciate yoga pants.

               “I’m so sorry. Tell you what,” I said, pulling out a twenty dollar bill, “Is your time worth twenty dollars? I’ll give it to you, and you give me two minutes. What do you say?”

               My experience is almost anyone will move for money. Twenty dollars may not be much to some folks, but to others, it’s the only motivation they need. She wasn’t one to be tempted by a bill with Andrew Jackson on it, but sometimes it’s just enough. “Fine. Two minutes to talk to the twit.”

               Ouch. That wasn’t a kind thing to say, but I wasn’t trying to win over this rich, entitled Karen. I was trying to talk to this shy, sweet woman behind the counter. Just to make her day a little better. Even if it was only for a second.

The others in line were impatient, but not like Karen.

               “You’re gonna get me in trouble,” she whispered.

               “You’ll be fine. I promise,” I winked at the young woman, smiling. “Now, let’s try this again. How are you doing today?”

               She hesitated, but not long, before answering. “It’s been hard working here. ‘Pecially after COVID. People tend to be more short-tempered and rude,” her eyes glanced at the Karen behind me. “Some days are really, really hard to be here.”

               “Do you love serving and helping other people?”

               “Yes. I love helping people like you.”

               “Why is that, do you suppose?”

               “Because you care.”

               And right at that moment, my coffee was handed to me by another employee standing behind the young girl.

               I smiled and said, “Thank you for the coffee. And the conversation. You have a fantastic day, and remember to take care of those you can.”

               “What’s your name?” she asked me.

               “I’m Will. Will Fratelli.”

               The Karen standing behind me took her sunglasses off, staring at me. “Will Fratelli?”

               The gal behind the register said, “Mr. Fratelli? Like the owner of Fratelli, Angus, and Fitch?”

               “The very same. And don’t tell anyone,” I winked again, “but I bought this building a few days ago and wanted to see how Jimmy and Pete handled their employees. I love seeing people do their best. I see potential in you. Take good care.”

               Karen grabbed my arm, “Mr. Fratelli? My name is Angela Danielle Tran,” she was quickly trying to pull out a business card. I smiled, taking the card from her.

               “Ms. Tran. You’ve been trying to reach me for the last two months about a property you think I need to invest in, is that right?”

               Her face lit up with dollar signs. “If you’d give me a minute of your time.”

               I looked back at the girl, who was now trying to hide her smile.

               “Maybe,” I said, smiling, pulling her hand off my arm. “We should have dinner. Tonight.” I looked at the girl behind the counter, “What’s your name, kiddo?”

               “Gina.”

               “Gina, Ms. Tran, and I would love you to join us for dinner tonight.”

               Angela looked disgusted, perplexed, and a bit overwhelmed by the idea of this piercing gal having dinner with us.

               “Isn’t that right, Ms. Tran?”

               She smiled, replying, “We would be honored to have you join us.” The words felt painful coming through her clenched teeth.

                “Excellent. Ms. Tran, I’ll see you at Bernard’s at 8 tonight. And Gina? I’ll pick you up right here, outside the café at 6. We have a lot to talk about.”

               Angela stepped up to the counter and was handed the drink she told Will she would order. Gina had already rang it up, and Jimmy gave it to her. “Mr. Fratelli, sir,” Jimmy stammered, “I wanted to thank you for everything.” It looked like he was going to cry. I decided to leave, sliding Ms. Tran’s business card in my pocket, even though I had her number, email address, and multiple proposals on my desk a few blocks away. I smiled and nodded at Jimmy, looking at Gina one more time. “Remember. 6 o’clock. And don’t be late.”

               Ms. Tran looked at the twenty in her hand, side-eyed the girl, and handed her a credit card from the pocket of her yoga pants. I figured she’d keep the twenty, but she did something that surprised even me. A tip jar sat next to the register. She rolled her eyes and stuffed it into the canister. I knew Jimmy let Gina keep it. He called me later to tell me she had a perma-grin on her lips for the rest of her shift.

               For me, it’s the little things that count most.