Service with a :)

Carrying on about traits, in the fashion of yesterday’s blog…I came to the conclusion, like a dozen light-bulbs going off in my brain all of the sudden…I get my servitude ability from my parents!
This may not seem like much of a revolution, but let me elaborate upon this from the beginning.

I had a training today at the corporate office near downtown Dallas. The trainings are so fun and very informative, and I will be talking about this one more in blogs to come. I posted a picture. I received an abundance of information about the specifics of the company as a whole and impact of Starbucks on the community and the world at large…found out some interesting facts about how to incorporate some of my big ideas into reality starting with the local stores and moving onto bigger avenues of influence…(like TOTAL WORLD DOMINATION…muah-hahaha! That was my Dr.Evil laugh)…

So, later this evening, I was standing in line at WalGreens. The line was very long and at the drugstore, whatever a person is buying is EASILY on display for all to see and since the line wasn’t moving very fast, there was quite an audience of people watching the lone cashier who looked more than ready to go home for the evening (or at least like he wanted to call over "Cindy" the photo shop worker who was simultaneously smacking her gum, flipping through a magazine, and texting, while informing him she was "...on her ten, kid." aka- she's not helping you, buddy).

There was one little Hispanic man in front of me who had two items, batteries and adult male diapers (and I only know this specifically because the man had kind of whispered to the cashier that the newsletter he had for them said they were on sale and they didn’t ring up that way, so naturally I looked to see what the item was…and I saw the specific name of the product “Adult Male Diapers” size medium). Immediately I start to get a nervous feeling in my stomach as the cashier can’t figure out why they won’t ring up…and sure enough, he picks up the “intercom” phone and calls for management…thank heavens he didn’t ask about a price check on them, I’m thinking. However, the whole line starts to get fidgety and they are getting curious about what is going on. I try to think of ways to help my “line” buddy by covering the product, but I am only buying a small package of Neosporin and that isn’t embarrassing and won’t help distract the line. Plus, the cashier is holding it up all high in the air. I hear two guys behind me snicker and I get upset. The Hispanic guy is facing the door like he wants to disappear and he isn’t really understanding what the cashier is saying to him. I think he just wants to grab his batteries and be on his way, but at this point, there are three people at the register trying to fix the price (apparently the guy got the ad from the “Sunday Paper” and the ad didn’t start until tomorrow). I’m looking around for something embarrassing to buy, but there’s nothing around the register except gum and chap stick and weight loss stuff. So, finally, they get it sorted out and the guy leaves, it’s my turn and the cashier kind of looks at me like he thinks we’re all gonna share a laugh about what just happened. The guys behind me are laughing louder now and I just know they are about to say something, so before they can, I open my big mouth and say, “Ya’ll think it is funny or something? People wet their pants. That could be you one day and I hope that people are compassionate enough to not laugh…” And I walked out to more laughing. Which who cares…those jerks.

And all this story-telling to bring me back to my parents…that’s where I get my compassion for people and my passion for serving others. My mother has served our family, selflessly (and without ever receiving ONE tip for it, haha!), for all of my life. She would constantly go out of her way to set up perfect dinners, cook wonderful food, maintain an immaculate house, all because that was her nature. She was a servant to us, her family. She had a deep compassion for putting others before herself. She instilled in my sister and myself the ability to serve others as an outpouring of our hearts. In effect, it is something that I ENJOY immensely. When I see that others are happy, I am pleased.

Now, couple that with my dad’s influence. My dad was a servant in occupation. He TEACHES people how to serve, not just through example, but through practice. My dad serves people in surprising and engaging ways. He taught me how to appeal to people’s needs by actively searching out ways to meet them WHERE THEY ARE. Meaning, he showed me how to serve others by seeking to find creative means to extend assistance and help alleviate hardships of others.
Through these two influences, I have found myself thriving in situations where I get to interact with people that have needs. Whether or not those needs are necessary (education) or just cravings (coffee), I love enlightening people and helping to serve them WHERE THEY ARE.

So, if it’s coffee they are after when they walk into Starbucks, I am proud that I can tell them that we buy our coffee beans from farmers that are being paid higher than any other coffee bean farmers in the world. From the tree, to the roasting plant, to the bag, to the store, our beans are treated like fine jewels and that is why we can guarantee that if people brew our coffee properly, they won’t find a better cup anywhere. The next time you go into a Starbucks, nicely ask the barista to brew you some of the Pike Place blend (or Guatemala Antigua, which are two of my favorite milder blends) in a coffee press and drink it out of a porcelain tasting cup, to truly savor the full aroma, acidity, and body of the coffee. I think you will agree that it’s worth it to sometimes, slow down and stop and smell the coffee-flavored roses.