Robert

I met Robert around November of last year. I was headed to the Starbucks in Gastown for a mid-afternoon caffeine boost when I saw him panhandling outside the store's entrance. Or rather, not panhandling, but genuinely wishing every passer-by a good day, opening the door when he could, and smiling like he hadn't a care in the world.

I waved him over.

"Hi, let me buy you a coffee!"
"Ok!"
"What would you like?"
"Anything at all sweetheart, whatever you're having, just a regular coffee."
"What size?"
"Doesn't matter."
"Cream and sugar?"
"Sure!"
"Ok, well come in with me so you can order and make it up as you like."

He pauses, cocks his head to the side, grins and then says "No, let me buy you a coffee!"

That morning, a woman gave Robert a Starbucks card with $6 on it. He told me that all day he'd been trying to buy someone, anyone, a coffee, but no one would take him up on his offer.

Who am I to refuse?

While we're in line, he introduces himself. He asks if I'm ready for Christmas, which I definitely am not, and he tells me how excited he is to see his kids at when they come to visit. If I remember correctly, he told me they live in the Yukon. He said he had three children; two from when he was married, and a third to the same mother post-divorce and after she had remarried ("We had a bottle of rum one night and one thing led to another. Her new husband doesn't like me much.")

When it's our turn, Robert proudly hands over his Starbucks card and triumphantly orders "Two grandes!" without actually specifying what the drink should be. The barista looks at me, I shrug, the barista shrugs back, and we're each handed a cup of drip coffee.

As I dump sugar into my coffee he tells me he's tired because was up all night. He didn't earn enough the previous day to afford the $10 to stay at the Backpacker's Hostel, and at that moment any of the preconceived notions I may have had immediately melted away. This wasn't a man burdened by mental illness or drug or alcohol addiction; this was simply a man who'd become accustomed to being down and out, and managed to maintain an infectiously positive outlook on life despite his less-than-ideal circumstances.

I give him the $5 cash that I have on me and tell him he's half way to having a safe night's sleep. He thanks me repeatedly and wishes me a great day.

I've seen Robert only once since then, about a week later, and he didn't put up much of a fight that time when I offered to buy him his drink. I've thought of him often though, as it's not every day a homeless guy buys you a coffee.