101 Things #91 - Coffee Altruism

So many of the bucket-list ideas I have been reviewing, recoiling from and ripping apart [Still doing the fancy alliteration, then. Good: Ed] prior to adding them to my internationally-renowned dunghill of despair entitled 101 Things I Refuse To Do Before I Die are all about personal gratification. Marvel at this sight here. Experience the thrill of something else there. How refreshing to come across a suggestion based on altruism. Nonetheless, as will become clear, I do not intend to be swayed by the idea found on the website Elite Daily.com to

Buy coffee for a stranger.

At first glance this seems inspired. Turn to the person in the queue behind you and establish what they want, order it for them, pay for it and sit down with a smug air of satisfaction. What should then happen is that the fortunate recipient of your largesse turns to the person behind them and continues the good deed, and it ripples on through the day as each new customer is delighted by the gift of a free drink and then adopts the role of drink-giver. Apparently [Warning: Internet hearsay can seriously damage your mental health: Ed], the coffee chains can go on for hours.

Let us now think rationally about all this (and I have to admit that rationality and certain bucket-list objectives are very strange bedfellows). Firstly, must it be coffee? Lots of us drink other things from time to time. Few drinks can rival a good cup of tea at certain times of the day. But we can, I think, append the phrase "or similar beverage" without seriously watering down this particular BL item.

Secondly, what if you are last in the queue? All those ahead of you have now been served with their drinks and are slyly watching you. You received your free drink with a frisson of delighted surprise then turned to do likewise and discovered nothing but empty space between yourself and the door. The barista eyes you coldly, knowing exactly what has been going on. Do you

• Order for an imaginary friend? 
• Ask the barista to have one for himself (Does anybody ever do that, I wonder?). 
• Start whistling and pretending to read through every combination of coffee bean, brewing method and size of cup on the menu in the hope that somebody will come in and spare you the humiliation of being the only cheapskate freeloader in the shop?

Thirdly, if the person behind you is not a stranger but a casual acquaintance, what then? Maybe it is your ex-wife's divorce lawyer with a couple of colleagues. Do you still have to offer him a coffee? Or do you ignore him and select one of the other lawyers who is not known to you instead? Tricky decision, seeing as it may jeopardise the still to be resolved question of who gets to to keep the vase Great-Aunt Catherine (It just would be her, wouldn't it?) gave you on your first anniversary.

Fourthly, how does it work if the family who came in behind you are having coffees, milkshakes, a selection of sandwiches and some of those chocolate things that always look so tempting? You have to interrupt them bickering over who's having the last almond croissant in order to invite one of them to receive your little gift. Oh, she's having the triple mocha with extra shots frappé, it costs four times what your own espresso did and her little sister's face is crumpled with tears as she is left out.

The coffee chain is one of those ideas that really hasn't been thought through. I cannot imagine it working in the last coffee shop I visited, in a motorway service station shortly before the devastating impact of the covid-19 outbreak closed all the cafes. In these places half the people are hanging around waiting for food to be heated up, nearly all are in groups and I can only imagine the funny looks one might be given when trying to explain that you want to buy someone their drink. " 'ere, Norma, feller here wants to buy me a drink. Think this is okay? I've 'eard about people like him, I have."

As far as spreading the altruistic effect goes, this idea is a washout. Only the first in the chain gets to do the giving bit. Everyone else simply operates on a sort of deferred payment scheme, apart from the last who may well happily drink up and get out before anyone else enters the shop. I think I can cheerfully go on buying my own coffee (or other beverage of my choice, as we have already established) and if everyone else wants to play silly games, let them.