The crossing-guard and I exchanged greetings, as has become custom, as he stopped cars for another one of the many people he helped each morning. As I continued on my walk, my reflections were about him and the hundreds, likely thousands, of people he touches every day. Some with just a wave as they ride by again on their way to work just as they do most of their weekdays. Some with the vital talk of familiarity as they go to school. He probably knows a few of their names and greets them by it. “Have a great day at school, Janie.” “Hope you had a great day today, Johnny. See you tomorrow.” Others he likely knows by the color of their coat or their Superman backpack. He knows them and they know him.
He is part of the fiber that holds their days together. A simple part of the routine that helps them belong. The crossing-guard is an everyday hero. So is that person that is almost always the one that gets your morning coffee. As are the short-order cooks, waiters and waitresses, barbers and hairdressers, photo lab folks, clerks, and many, many more. The ones that are there almost every single day and warm your life more in those short connections than most do with much longer opportunities.
The crossing-guard reminded me about the Atlas Café in downtown Tulsa, Oklahoma. Years ago, my job as sales manager had me in Tulsa one week each month. I worked with the sales rep there to grow the business. One of the first things I did was to have her meet downtown so we could find one of the local breakfast/lunch places. We discovered the Atlas Café.
Located in the building of the same name, the Atlas Café is tucked away in the corner of the basement of a building that could have served as the Daily Planet building in the old Superman TV series. The rep and I met there for breakfast and talked shop while we ate. Then I watched. Felt is a better word. I felt the place and the morning rush as workers nourished much more than hunger with breakfast at the local watering hole. The feel of the place sweetened my coffee.
I asked the rep to watch and share what she saw. She watched for a bit and said the crew rarely talked. She said they seemed a bit cold to one another, except the waitress and cashier that dealt with the customers. That made me smile and I had here look again. Feel them. She did. I waited until the quiet awareness showed in her eyes.
“They are a team. A very, very good team. As good as the Yankees. As good as any Super Bowl winner. They are in the zone. Each knows exactly what to do and they do it. Without a word. If we were here before the rush, they would have been smoking and joking. If we stay until after the rush, they will be talking as they ease down from this part of their day. They are a team that serves a hundred plus folks in less than ninety minutes and they are damn good. That is not silence you hear. That is efficiency. That is team work…at its finest.” I explained there were places like this in every town, in every business part, in every neighborhood. Places where, like Cheers said, everyone knew your name. This is where you got to know people and people got to know you. This is where sales reps become more than some face.
She got it. We enjoyed the show while we finished our breakfast. When at the counter to pay the check, I mentioned the delicious breakfast and the amazingly efficient crew. Discovered that the Atlas Café was family owned and operated. Half the crew was related by blood, the other half by sweat. The cashier was one of the daughters of the owners who worked in the café for decades before the kids took it over. She understood how much more than breakfast and lunch they served. She liked being part of the energy of downtown Tulsa every day.
Six weeks later, I was back in Tulsa again and the rep and I made a point of visiting the Atlas Café. This time it was for lunch between appointments downtown. At lunch, the folks lined up, placed their orders, and then went to their tables where the food was brought to them. The rep and I dutifully waited in the rather long line to place the order. When we got to the cash register, the cashier looked up and said, “Welcome back. You going to be in town for a while?” THAT amazed me. The Atlas Café had a life-long fan at that moment. In subsequent visits, I found out the cashier’s husband is a fire fighter in addition to being a short order cook. Met the Mom. Heard about the kids. My visits to the Atlas Café were always one of the highpoints of each trip to Tulsa.
The crossing-guard reminded me of all of that. I am a traveler. Always have been and likely always will be. Still, I savor those places and enjoy the sweetness of familiarity when my life choices allow it. It is comfort. It is warmth. It is belonging.
Several years ago, I had a few years of a relatively regular commute. While business still had me globetrotting, half my days had the same drive to and from the same place. On those days, McDonalds drive-thru was my stop for morning coffee. Coffee, light and sweet. There was a woman that worked there and she was there almost every time I drove through. After only a few visits, she knew my order would usually be just that large cup of coffee, light and sweet. I pulled up and the voice from the box said, “Good Morning, the usual?” It usually was.
I enjoyed that interface each day. Some small pleasantries as she handed the coffee and I handed the cash. Simple things about weather, health, hair, whatever. Was it sixty seconds? Less? More? Whatever it was, it was right.
When life choices took me elsewhere, I knew that cup of coffee, the usual, from that McDonalds would be one of the things I missed the most. She was the reason. The day that was to be my last day driving through, I made a stop prior and hoped to let her know that she would be missed. She greeted me with, “Hi there. Good morning. The usual?” I said yes and drove up to the window. It was the same routine. She handed me the coffee and I handed her the cash. She looked into the car and noticed something and said, “What a lovely rose. Someone is very special.” Inside, I beamed for that was exactly right. I reached for the rose and the card and said, “You are right. Someone is very special.” I handed her the flower. “Just something to say thank you for starting my day with smile. This is my last time driving through, I am headed to Albuquerque but I wanted to thank you for being so pleasant every day. You make a difference everyday and I really appreciate it.”
As I drove away, she cried. After I drove away, I cried. Sometimes the usual is very special.
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