Bean and Beukah : A Story of Standing up for a Fellow Coffee pod Drinker, No Matter the Language Barrier

In Noho, New York City, a chic area of upscale cafes, boutiques, art galleries, etc., I was waiting for my coffee, before I went to work on Lafayette Street. I had gotten a job as an assistant to a casting director, which paid in prestige rather than foreign currency.

Most waiters that you will find in New York, have spent years of training, voice lessons, dance lessons, acting classes, coaching..all leading to this: A WAITER IN A NY RESTAURANT..(not the musical). They are grateful for a place to work, to pay for the studio they share with two roommates, and six street cats. They are a legend in their own minds, and have garnered over the years a tinge of resentment in their almost successes and nearly missed fame.

Having said that, at the upscale, but delectable BEAN AND BEDUKA , with a salad bar that boasts 95 ways to justify pasta as salad, stands a long line of eager customers, ready to order their personal favorite  java. They have every flavor, complete with a plethora of adjectives, for sale.

Before me stood a young, Asian woman, who tried to make sense out of the many options of coffee…she had the same blank stare as a deer in front of oncoming headlights. I sensed her anxiety, as the customer line moved quickly forward.

Behind the coffee counter stood “Seth”, clad in a bowtie, suspenders and crisply ironed white shirt. Perhaps he was preoccupied, as he went over lines for his next audition: CRISIS FOR A CREASED SHIRT.

As the Asian woman came in front of Seth, she started to stutter and point vaguely to an item listed on the overhead menu.

“My name is Seth. May I take your order, please”

A silence ensued, as she tried to find the correct English words to place her order. Instead, she kept pointing to the menu.  I…I…Me….cup…

Seth cracked.

“If you want a coffee, why don’t you go home to wherever you come from, and order there.We need to move on…NEXT IN LINE…

The young woman said nothing, but one single tear dripped silently down her face. Others in line snickered, some gave the waiter a dirty look…others just wanted to get their coffee and go. .,

I stepped forward.

SETH, I WOULD LIKE TO ORDER A GRANDE CUP OF VANILLA ICED CAFE, BUT I NEED TO HEAR ONE THING BEFORE I AM SERVED. I WANT TO SPEAK TO THE MANAGER, IN FRONT OF THIS CROWD,AND THIS WOMAN YOU UTTERLY HUMILIATED, SIMPLY BECAUSE SHE WAS NOT PROFICIENT IN ENGLISH. CAN YOU DO THAT FOR ME, SETH?

The crowd seemed to be moved into some kind of action, with little, quiet but emphatic: ME TOO…Yes, you are absolutely right…Unfair discrimination…Others grabbed their lattes and hurried out the door…

By the time the manager appeared, Seth realized he would have to humble himself in front of this Asian tourist, or whatever…Seth thought of his apology as an act from a monologue, and nearly dropped to his knees in contrite apology….

This little moral slice of life did not thrill my boss. However, I knew that somewhere, perhaps in some ESL class around the park, a dainty, Asian student was sipping her cup in small  gulps, relishing her first victory in this beloved, wondrous city…..