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When I was hired a year ago, the library was already providing free coffee for an hour each Wednesday. I glommed onto the idea, and grew it into something bigger:
Coffee Talk.
Sure, the title doesn’t sound too exciting, but the information we learn from each session is valuable.
I realized early on that those taking advantage of the coffee most often were our homeless patrons, which had me thinking about what else they might like. As per my usual method, I began to research. But it didn’t take me long to realize the easiest way to figure out what they wanted was to ask them.
They were already showing up for coffee, so I just turned the coffee time into a chat time. Before long the event extended an extra hour, and I invited employees from local nonprofits geared toward helping the homeless to attend as well.
Hence, Amy’s presence.
She’s here every Wednesday to answer questions and give guidance and advice on the many issues someone who lost their home might face. She lets them know about programs and jobs and tons of other services I know nothing about. She is an angel in jeans and a blazer.
And because of her, our attendance has doubled, making it easy for me to demonstrate the benefit of the program to our director.
Knowing that not everyone has the best intentions, or complete control over their mental faculties, one of the security guards is also normally nearby. But I’ve asked that they pour themselves a cup of coffee and take a seat when they’re in the actual Coffee Talk space.
I love everything about this event, except for the timing. Of course, it works great for the patrons that don’t have jobs or places to be during the day, a group in need I’m excited to help. However, it doesn’t lend itself to helping people who are busy during the day.
People who have school.
People like Jamie.
“He’s a teenager. He’s in school. But I think something is wrong at home, and he may not be sleeping there anymore. But he won’t tell me.”
“So you want to see if he’ll talk to me?” Amy grabs some paper towels to wipe up a spill.
“It’s worth a shot.”
“Of course I’ll stay. I can work off of one of the library computers, and you can let me know when he arrives.”
A plan. We have a plan, and maybe tonight I’ll be able to go to sleep knowing Jamie is safe and cared for.
A few hours later, I see a familiar head of unruly dark hair stroll across the reading room. With a quick wave for Amy to join me, I follow him to his spot.
When he sees me approaching, I’m greeted with the sweetest grin.
“How are you doing, Jamie?”
“Just fine, Ms. Pierce. Just fine. Here, look.” Jamie settles his backpack on the table and carefully unzips it. He pulls out a folder and from that produces a stapled bunch of papers.
When he hands it to me, I scan the title.
Beautiful Buildings: The History of Architecture in New Orleans
And under the title is scrawled a hand-written ninety-eight percent.
“Is this your history paper?”
Jamie nods, a huge smile on his face.
“This is amazing! Jamie! Holy goodness gracious. You kicked ass!”
There’s an intentional throat-clearing next to me, and I glance over remembering who is there.
“Oh, sorry. I wanted to introduce you to my friend. Jamie, this is Amy. Amy, this is Jamie. Amy usually comes for our Wednesday Coffee Talks. Jamie comes to the library to write A-plus papers, apparently.”
The teenager’s eyes, which had taken on a wary quality when I introduced the woman, lighten at the praise.
