Just a cup of coffee

Traffic in Atlanta is terrible. Seattle traffic is bad, Houston traffic is bad. But Atlanta seems to have uniquely transformed every former racoon trail into a road and every freeway is twisted and contorted so as not to interrupt the pretzel logic design.  My task Tuesday morning was to navigate from Atlanta to Chattanooga for a meeting.  Leaving the Hampton Inn in Buckhead, a gridlocked- most-of-the-time shopping area north of downtown, Siri directed me to no less than five narrow residential surface streets before finally reaching I-75 North. Realizing I forgot to grab a cup of coffee at the hotel, I decided to get down the road a piece before finding a Starbucks. Finding a Starbucks cannot be that difficult in any major metropolitan area. Close by, maybe even near the freeway and hopefully even a sign directing my rented Hyndai Accent (accent on powerless) toward my typical Venti Drip with an added shot.... well 80 miles, yes EIGHTY miles later seeing no sign of a venti anything I eased off the freeway at exit 328 to look for my caffeine fix.  

Huh, Waffle House. Never stopped at one. Certainly never eaten at one. But I figured an acidic, hot drink would be safe even there. So I wandered in curious about the reports I had heard from my friends in Houston about the delicious chicken and waffles. But more curious about the food safety violations I would run into. Sure enough the first thing I see is about two dozen shell eggs in a wire basket slowly warming to room temperature above the grill. The floor behind the counter was as old as it was dirty. There were two 24" grills separated by a gas hot plate that looked cooked on but clean. I guess customers seeing what is being prepared would keep them honest about food handling anyway.

That being said the next thing I noticed was the energetic employees. The young man at the grill was cleaning aluminum fry pans in the sink under the front counter. Another server was hurriedly taking care of eight or ten customers at five different tables. An older lady greeted me with a smile. I asked for a cup of coffee to go. She turned to grab the cup and pour the coffee. After writing the ticket, yes she wrote me up for a cup of coffee on a guest check, she said "That will be two dollars and twenty three cents". I handed her a twenty. She correctly counted back my change (first time that had happened to me in a good long while). I left the balance of a five on the counter and said thank you. She was genuinely taken back by the tip and took a breath before saying "Thank-you! Have a blessed day!"

"Thank-you" I said, "you too".

You can't put a price on authentic gratitude. I'm glad I stopped at Waffle House. Most days they are just yellow and brown boxes on the side of the road, but today I realized anew that inside that yellow and brown box there are everyday people serving and being served. Enjoying chicken and waffles and getting a refill of coffee. Scrubbing pans and writing a number on a guest check. Next time I won't sneer. I will stop and get a cup of coffee to go.