I’m writing to offer my deepest thanks to the coffee shop barista who helped my son replace a gift card on Monday.
For six-year-olds, having money or gift cards that are their own comes with such a great amount of pride. My son received a gift card at Christmas and has held on to it for more than four months. I regret to inform you that his mother (me) committed an atrocious sin and washed his pants without checking the pockets. I regret even further to admit that the beloved gift card was in his pants pocket and was ruined in the wash.
The tears! The heartbreak! The grief that a six-year-old experiences when the thing that is theirs is damaged beyond repair.
Through tears, he agreed to go to the coffee shop and see if it could be replaced.
That’s where the barista came in. When a blotchyfaced, teary boy came to the counter in the middle of the morning rush, the barista was attentive and made my boy feel so special. He interpreted the last eight digits of the card, showed my boy the many available options for a new card, had my son pick out a replacement, and showed him on his receipt how much money remained. My boy’s fears were assuaged because of how kind and adept a stranger was at recognizing how important this slice of independence is. He happily then spent $3 of the new card on a muffin and told me all the way to school how cool it was that his card could be replaced (but he won’t keep it in his pockets anymore). Thank you to this stranger for turning a rotten morning into one with such a lovely memory for my boy. I am so grateful to you for that.
— Catherine Sullivan
Anchorage
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