A Gift

I drove through Starbucks this morning. I ordered a grande coffee and when it was finally my turn at the window, my debit card ready and waiting, the barista told me that the woman in the car in front of me had paid for my drink. Maybe I’m jaded, or maybe I’m just innately skeptical, but I had to ask the barista if she was serious. She was. Convinced that this was really happening, I asked if the woman had given a reason why. She had.

“She was paying it forward.”

Apparently, someone a few cars ahead of me had paid for the drink of the person behind them. That person, after learning this, then asked to pay for the drink of the person behind them. So on and so forth. Everyone happily paying it forward.

I was impressed by the generosity of this, and amused that it had gone on for several cars now, but something about it was also unsettling. Part of the problem was that I suddenly felt immense pressure to pay for the drink of the person behind me. And as much as I didn’t care about the cost of doing this, and as much as I liked the idea of endorsing such activities as this, I felt a strong resistance.

“What do you want to do?” asked the barista.

I looked at her. I was torn. Her asking me furthered the implication that there was an expectation here.

“You know,” I said, “I think I’m just going to accept the gift.”

She smiled and told me to have a great day, which was reassuring, but as I pulled forward into the parking lot, I suddenly felt panicked. What if a camera crew was waiting to capture on film the cheapskate who ended a good thing? What if the woman who had paid for my drink was waiting for me? What if I got caught?

It was ridiculous of me to think this way, but I didn’t want to be faced with what I had just done. It felt like I had just gotten away with something. Even now, writing this for you, I feel an urge to explain myself.

So here goes, my explanation…

I think we have a hard time accepting gifts. I don’t think it has anything to do with where we live or how much money we make. I think it’s just how we are. Gifts, to us, can sometimes feel like debt. We keep track of who gives us birthday gifts so that we can be sure to do the same for them. We take note of how much our significant others spend on us at Christmas or on our anniversary so that we can match or exceed this sum the next year. We have a mental cabinet reserved for this information. We might resent ourselves for filing it away, but no matter how hard we try to not care, we unfailingly do.

This morning, faced with the question of what I wanted to do, everything in me was ready to say, “Yes, I’d love to keep this going!” But there was also something in me that was concerned about being that guy, the guy who didn't keep it going. And this troubled me.

I don’t regret being “that guy.” I don't regret ending a good thing. I was given a gift. I accepted it as a gift. And you know, I think I probably will pay it forward someday. But I’m not going to do it because I want to even the score or simply to reciprocate. I don't want it to be about paying off a debt. And while I know it wasn't necessarily that for the few cars who kept it going in front of me, and while I am grateful that only by their doing so was I included, I am saying that pressure, not joy, was how it felt when I was faced with the decision to keep it going or not.

When inspiration to do something like this next strikes me, whether it's at a Starbucks or not, whether it's a repeatable gesture or not, I really want it simply to be my way of saying, "Here’s a gift—I hope you enjoy it."