Losing Another Fiver To Good Effect

I've mentioned that one of my requests in my morning Quiet Time is that I be shown an opportunity to be of service to another person that day and to recognize that often it's a small, quiet thing.  For instance, I know the names of the two young women manning the espresso machine and cash register at the coffee place where SuperK and I spend an ungodly amount of money for two cups of coffee and a slice of coffee cake each Saturday.  I holler their names out when I enter and exit the shop and it's not hard to see how pleased they are to be recognized as human beings and not coffee machines.  It's SO easy to do, to make this slight adjustment from Seaweed-centric to Seaweed-peripheral.

At the meeting this morning a young guy with young children - I'd say he has been sober for eight months or so - shared that his oldest son lost his first tooth and that - due to a management oversight -  the tooth fairy was a no-show.  He expressed some guilt over this.  Honestly, as he should.  But I perceived that it was too much guilt and too much remorse for too little a thing and that he is present enough to learn from this very, very minor transgression.  After the meeting I caught him at the door, pressed five bucks into his hand, and told him to hide it under a couch cushion and tell his son that the tooth fairy did come but that he left the money for the tooth in the wrong place.  Sort of a stupid tooth fairy, as it were.  As an aside, I need to point out that I spent sixteen dollars for our coffees without batting an eye but the kid had to tear the fiver out of my hand.  As another aside I not that every time I'm sure that the recipient of my negligible cash offer will wave it off but that has never happened.  I live in such a well-off, comfortable bubble that sometimes forget that a few dollars to someone working hard to make ends meet is much appreciated.

Here's what a lot of meetings does to those who have seen thousands of people walk into The Rooms with the best intentions drift into indifference and self-sufficiency .  .  .  When I told SuperK what I had done (I had to tell someone! or I was going to walk around for a week with a large sandwich board strapped to my body announcing my good act) she said, with no judgment or negativity, "I hope he gives the money to his child."  Boy, I get it.  While she applauded what I did she knew that a lot of bullshit gets slung around in A.A.  I see a lot of commitment in this young guy, a lot of reponsibility, so I'm confident he'll make his son happy but - honestly? - don't really care.  I had a great day living off the fumes of that insignificant act.  That five bucks isn't going to change my life one way or another and - even if the father is a multi-millionaire - I bet it taught him the oomph behind being of service.