Coffee, Confident Vulnerability and Genuine Niceness

Posted On January 14, 2019

Hi, I’m Christopher, and I bullet journal. Well… sort of. I have my own system for bullet journaling which replaces several daily logs with a system of weekly logs. Hey, it works for me, and that’s what’s important. But the point of this isn’t that I bullet journal, but rather that I drink coffee. I’ll get to that in a second. So, it’s the new year: a time for reflection over 2018, and a time for planning for 2019. So, I got a new bullet journal to help with that. The process of migrating a bunch of those notes, goals, plans, and poems from my 2018 bullet journal to my shiny new 2019 one was incredibly relaxing. I think it was partly because of the process of going through the old, sorting through it, deciding what was important, and setting up my new journal. But there were several other elements that added to the serenity of the moment.

For one, I was practicing mindfulness. While I was drawing out the lines for the calendars and future logs, I was working on being present in the moment, instead of letting my mind wander.  I was concentrating on how the paper felt against my fingertips, how the pencil felt in my hand, how the smell of coffee and bagels wafted through the air. (I told you this story involved coffee.)

A couple Saturdays ago, I knew that some friends would be coming to stay at my apartment, but I wanted to make sure I took the time to reflect over my past year, so instead of cooping myself up in my apartment where the need to clean or the procrastination that is Netflix would become too distracting, I walked a couple of blocks to try out a new café. It was a beautiful sunny day and the walk was peaceful and calm, even for 11:30 on a Saturday. It was early January, but with the sun and the unusual warmth, I was sweating by the time I reached the coffee shop. When I walked in, it was incredibly busy. I ended up standing in the doorway threshold and just holding the door for people to leave until the line died down enough that I could step in and order. A girl slightly younger than me beckoned me forward, and I ordered a caramel latté.

“Do you want a 12 or 16 ounce?” Realizing her mistake, she shook it off with a smile and tried again. “Sorry, we don’t have 12 ounce. 10 or 16?”

“10 would be great, as much as I’d love a 12.”

 She laughed about it, and I realized she hadn’t felt ashamed or embarrassed of her mistake. She wasn’t weighted down by worry, and that uplifted me. Maybe it was the sun, maybe it was the energy of a room filled with people that fueled my extroverted soul, maybe it was the momentum I’d gained from picking up my room that morning, but this day was definitely looking like a positive one. So, when I pulled out my license instead of my debit card to pay for the coffee, I laughed it off and muttered something about the heat.

“I’m sweating from just walking over here!” I said with a smile. Looking back, I can’t believe I’d said that. What an odd thing to exclaim to a college-aged barista, but again, she’d laughed about it. What’s more, I didn’t feel ashamed or embarrassed of stating something that I normally worry about. I think it was her act of bravery which let me know that it was a safe place: she laughed at herself. She didn’t worry or stress about her mistake. She simply realized that she had made it and corrected herself. Even with my excuse thrown in there, I felt safe to make mistakes.

I payed for my coffee and looked around at the small café. It was packed. Almost every table, bench, window sill, and bar were filled with perching patrons. I spotted a place at the bar up next to the baristas preparing coffee and moved in that direction. Fueled with the bravery and momentum of the morning, I did something I normally wouldn’t.

“Excuse me?” I said to the individual who seemed to be working on homework on their laptop, and they had some notebooks occupying the section before the seat I gestured to. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

“Not at all.” They smiled – authentic, genuine niceness. “Here, I can slide my stuff over.”

So there I sat, and drank my latte (which came with the foam art I’d only seen in Instagram photos up until now), and mindfully migrated things between my bullet journals, and thought about how cool humanity is.

There are a few more things that happened that day that I’d love to talk about. The chit-chat between the baristas had no air of drama whatsoever. It was light and uplifting. A conversation between good friends and coworkers. When the printer malfunctioned, a barista took over making sure that coffee got to patrons without overly apologizing or getting stressed out. Their aura of calm and confidence infected the complaining customers so that everyone left the counter with a smile. An older gentleman sat next to me on the bar and struggled to turn the pages in the paper he had brought with him due to his shaky hands. He struggled to speak as well, the words not fully forming in his mouth as he exerted a lot more effort on his two to five-word phrases than most people. But not a single person treated him with disrespect or discrimination, but with a patience and genuine niceness. It was incredibly encouraging to watch the constant outpouring of positive energy between people at this café.

The rest of the weekend was a bit crazy with hosting friends for a wedding, and the next week flew by just as quickly, so I haven’t had much time to really reflect on the experience until now. Since reflecting on it, I’ve made one discovery that is consistent with patterns I’ve seen before, and one that I hope to explore.

First, I noticed that unapologetic and confident vulnerability is contagious and promotes a “safe space” without need for rules or regulations. We all make mistakes. It’s inherent to us being human. We knock things over; we forget words, errands, and anniversaries; we say the wrong thing; we call people by the wrong name. When we become so anxious about revealing our insecurities and imperfections, we bottle in a lot of stress and worry which can be physically damaging. But when we’re given the space to truly be ourselves – mistakes and all – that is one of the most freeing and uplifting places to be. What’s more, that kind of space is infectious, and can help to uplift those around us. I saw this with the barista who took my order and the one who handled the printer malfunction with grace. I’ve seen it in some of the most productive small group conversations and as the start to some incredibly moving team meetings. It’s not that easy to practice, and it can be transformational.

The thing that I’m hoping to explore more is the genuine niceness that was a part of the atmosphere. Maybe it was a biproduct of a bunch of people tuned into the confident vulnerability that was going around. Maybe it was because everyone was in a good mood because it was warm, sunny, and they had coffee. Maybe it was just a Minnesota thing, but I’m looking forward to learning more. “Nice” is such a quaint, cute, and nice word. It’s what we use to describe something that isn’t great, but isn’t awful. (Or we use it to describe something awful to someone whose feelings we don’t want to hurt, e.g. “The bright fuschia ottoman is, erm, nice.”) It’s used to describe an evening that was good, but you don’t want to seem to eager. “I had a nice time tonight.” In a world so moved by the deepest of purples and brightest yellows, just plain sky-blue is often overlooked, but it’s those nice moments that we could all use more of. I’d also like to add that “nice” is not a quaint and easy trait to master. It’s defined as “pleasantness; agreeableness; satisfactory.” It takes real work to be able to accomplish all three with authenticity and in all situations.

I’m still growing, and I still make mistakes, but I think both of those will always be true. I hope to practice some confident vulnerability and work on being courageously and authentically nice. Oh, and you can bet your bottom dollar that I’ll be returning to that coffee shop.