Monday, December 28, 2015

Christmas Gifts

I have a light little anecdote to share. I realize my posts have been a bit heavy lately.

I finally treated myself to something I'd wanted a while back, yet allowed myself to be talked out of; the tattoo I'd designed after my husband divorced me five years ago. It was my Christmas gift to myself.

I drove down to the studio for my 3:00 PM appointment, signed the papers concerning all the legalities while the artist set up his workstation and dealt with a couple of other things. We then finalized the design, and after about forty minutes altogether, I finally settled myself in his chair for a long session as we'd booked two hours for it. I was ready for it, even if I hadn't been feeling well lately due to a minor illness and major emotional upheaval.

About an hour into the session, I was dying. Not because of the pain, although there were moments and I had forgotten to take something beforehand, but for a cup of coffee as it was now close to 5:00 PM, way past my afternoon coffee/tea time.

As luck would have it, one of the other artists announced he was headed to the Starbucks across the street as he was between clients.

My ears perked up! Starbucks??!! I really wanted to ask him to bring me something, but dare I? I understand that if you don't ask for what you want the answer is always no, and I do feel uncomfortable asking complete strangers for even a simple favor. He did ask the other artists, some of whom put in orders. And I hoped he would ask me, but as I'm a customer and he didn't know me, would he?

He did indeed ask if I wanted something. 

Hallelujah! Praise the arabicas!

I asked for a tall cup of coffee with cream as I wasn't about to trouble him for my usual afternoon beverage from Starbucks; a venti, extra hot, no foam, no whip coconut milk mocha. And I thanked him.

He soon returned precariously carrying the assorted orders and I gratefully accepted mine, took a sip and felt the warmth of the coffee fill my soul and I began to zen out for a moment even while the needle was preventing me from doing so completely. 

Then came my real dilemma. As my arm was still occupied with the needle, I couldn't reach my wallet to  pay him, but I assumed he understood my situation.

What I find interesting about me here is how I entertained the thought of what he might think of me for not offering to pay him just a few dollars for a simple cup of coffee. While I was not having anxiety over it, it still bothered me, as I was brought up to at least offer to pay for something someone does for you. It's the right thing to do. And I hadn't been able to do that.


Soon after, he got ready to leave, as his last appointment of the day failed to show up. As he was walking past my chair-it was the one closest to the door-I thanked him again for the coffee and said I'd leave the money with my artist as I couldn't reach my wallet.

He said not to worry about it as it was only a couple of bucks. I replied I didn't want him to think I'd forgotten or was skipping out on paying him, and he said it never entered his mind.

I again realized that I think too much about the most trivial of things.

I also learned that sometimes a nice gesture is just's simply a nice gesture.
The finished tattoo

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