Thank God for elegance, and for the people who take the time and energy to embrace it.
There is enough ugliness in the world. Enough foul language, sagging trousers, gossip rags, and nihilistic expression.
The muddy pathway to the low road is well-trodden because it’s easy. It requires nothing of us. Mediocrity loves company.
The high road, however, is not easy. It’s a steady uphill hike, with the wind in your face. It demands sacrifices and effort, but the reward is more than accomplishment. It’s a kind of inner peace.
The gentleman in the coffee shop radiated elegance and inner peace.
This rude world
From the moment he strolled in, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. His suit, tie, fedora, and handkerchief were beautifully thought out. This was a man who took care in his appearance, but not for vanity’s sake. For self-respect and high standards.
He stood tall, shoulders back. He smiled at the barista and said in a silky baritone, “Good morning, ma’am. May I have a dark roast coffee?”
The barista stared back at him in silence, and then caught herself and said, “Of course, sir.”
If you ask what the ten things that improve the quality of this rude world are, I would say one right away: Elegance! -Mehmet Murat ildan
The dapper gentleman sat down, sipped his coffee, and began reading a book he had carried in under his right arm.
Dad was an adult. An attorney who took the high road. Someone to be depended on. A professional who dressed like it. Not in a foppish or elitist way, but simply because he respected himself, his family, his profession, and the people he worked for.
Had I not ambled into the coffee shop to read and write, I never would have seen this dignified, elegantly attired man. Nor would I have ruminated about my father’s dignity, elegant manner, and the importance of high standards.
My time in the coffee shop was well spent. Through quiet observation, I learned a lesson easily forgotten in today’s dressed-down, casual atmosphere.
The lesson was that elegance still matters.
To be impatient means never really living
A week later the siren song of a hot latte and blueberry muffin landed me back in the same coffee shop. I slung my satchel strap over the back of the chair, pulled out a notebook, and waited for my order.
A line formed after my arrival, and an entertaining theater of drama unfolded. The man in front forgot his credit card and asked if he could pay with a check. Tense expressions on the woman behind him betrayed her impatience.
The coffee shop doesn’t take checks and so the man trotted out to his car to look for change. “Oh my God, some people,” the woman said to the cashier after the man was gone. The cashier meekly smiled at the woman’s impatience and took her order.
To be impatient means never really living, being always in the future, in what will happen, but which is after all not yet here.Do not impatient people resemble spirits who are never here in this place, and now, in this very moment, but rather sticking their heads out of life like those wanderers who supposedly, when they found themselves at the end of the world, just looked onward, beyond the horizon? What did they see there? What is it that an impatient person hopes to glimpse? -Olga Tokarczuk, The Books of Jacob
An older businessman behind the impatient woman was completely indifferent. He seemed to be quietly humming to himself. When his turn came, he smiled broadly at the cashier and placed his order.
The cashier gave the businessman some change and said, “Your coffee will be right up, sir.” The businessman grinned and said, “Ah, coffee, my dear, coffee. Nectar of the Gods!”
This caused the cashier to giggle a little, and I chuckled as well. And then I realized that the coffee shop and its people taught me another life lesson.
Inconveniences and annoying people will come into our lives. We can greet these things with a furrowed brow and sarcastic words, or we can smile and sing the praises of “Nectar of the Gods.”
Clearly, the latter enticed a giggle from the young cashier, instead of a meek reply.
People don’t listen when you lecture
It wasn’t long before another life lesson presented itself in the coffee shop. This time it was compliments of a bickering, elderly couple.
The old fellow ordered a large cafe mocha, which launched his wife into a lecture about the evils of chocolate and high cholesterol. The old chap held his tongue for a bit while his wife chattered about his last doctor appointment and lab results. She couldn’t see that she was embarrassing her husband.
Eventually, the fellow shot back and told his wife that he just wanted “to live a little.”
People don’t listen when you lecture. No one wants to be talked down to or scolded. -Scott Thompson
I’m sure the fellow’s wife meant well. Perhaps he’s terrible at managing his health, and his wife has to be the bad guy and remind him about his diet.
But here’s the thing. It’s all about the way you tell somebody something, and when.
It probably would have been more effective for the woman to let her husband enjoy the mocha, and then, later on, tell him, “I love you honey, and I want you around. I know you love those mochas, but I worry about your diet and staying healthy.”
Such a statement might prove more effective. Either way, watching their exchange reminded me that all couples quarrel. The key is to figure out how to do it elegantly, and to pick the best time and place to bring up sensitive subjects.
Caffeine does not cure existential exhaustion
A few weeks passed and I found myself in a different coffee shop across town. I was running errands and needed a coffee break.
I heard the bells on the shop’s door jingle as a jittery-looking man carrying a satchel wandered in. He was skinny and seemed to walk with an electric rhythm.
In his right hand was an empty coffee cup, which he presented to the barista. He said something about being in a hurry, and that he needed to wake up. “This is empty and I need it filled up, stat!” he said with a nervous kind of smile.
I can’t remember the last time I’ve slept and while caffeine does sound like Heaven, I wonder if it’ll really be able to help me in this state. After all, caffeine does not cure existential exhaustion.
-Kayla Krantz, The Moon Warriors
The barista chap took the cup and as he filled it asked, “Maybe I should throw in an espresso? That’ll wake you up.” The comment was said in jest, but the jittery fellow agreed.
“That’s actually a great idea!” he said.
I watched the harried fellow, armed with enough caffeine to kill a horse, as he scrambled out of the coffee shop and into his car.
Another coffee shop lesson, I thought. Plan your schedule well, and go easy on the caffeine.
Love them anyway
My last coffee shop lesson happened a few years back when I was still living in Northern California. I was enjoying a latte and reading in the coffee shop when I noticed a homeless gentleman outside.
The guy had a shopping cart with him and looked like he’d had a rough night. He slumped down on a bench and went through his pockets, presumably looking for some coffee money.
The manager of the coffee house, a kind woman named Anna, spotted the fellow. I watched as she filled a large cup of coffee and headed outside. I got up and followed her, as I was ready to leave.
Outside, Anna approached the man and said, “This one is on the house, George.” He stood up, beaming, and said, “I always knew you were an angel, Anna.”
People are illogical, unreasonable, and self-centered. Love them anyway. -Kent M. Keith, The Silent Revolution: Dynamic Leadership in the Student Council
What struck me more than Anna’s kind gesture was the fact that they knew one another’s names. Clearly, they have interacted before.
The lesson:Take the time to learn people’s names.
When we take the time to meet people and learn their names, we see their humanity more deeply. Instead of viewing them as an abstraction (“the coffee barista” or “the homeless guy,”), we get to know them a little more intimately.
Coffee shops can be teachers. But we have to get our noses out of our smartphones and laptops. We need to sit quietly, listen, and observe.
I’ve unwittingly overheard the most amazing conversations in coffee shops. People sharing advice, heartfelt regrets, plans for the future.
Such conversations remind me how alike we all are. How we all want pretty much the same things. To be loved. To find some success. To matter in this life. To enjoy a good cup of coffee.
Next time you find yourself in a coffee shop, relax. Sit back. Listen. Watch. Let the world and all of its rich life lessons unfold before you.
Before you go
I’m John P. Weiss. I draw cartoons, paint, shoot classic black & white photos, and write elegant essays about life. For the latest cartoons, art, photos, and writing, check out my Saturday Newsletter here.
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This post was previously published on Medium.
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Illustrations by John P. Weiss
