Thursday, October 24, 2019

A Rip in the Fabric



I stop on the way to work every day to pick up a large iced coffee. Just cream. No sugar. The gentlemen at the Dunkin Donuts often see me coming before I’m completely in the door and start making it for me. Early morning Dunkin is a mix of adults getting breakfast sandwiches and high school students getting beverages enhanced by caramel.

On Fridays there appears to be some kind of student meeting in the back; maybe it is a study group. Occasionally you will see a few people sitting in the booths up front. But mostly it is a quick in-and-out trade at that hour.

About the booths. I remember when they were installed and how nice they looked. Then I watched over time how they were vandalized by customers. It made me sad to see slits in the vinyl, stuffing pulled out.  Those things don’t happen by themselves. Why do that? Would you go in someone’s home and rip up their furniture?

So I was excited when they were replaced recently. All is shiny and new again. But how long will it last?

You see, these booths aren’t top of the line, heavy-duty, expensive pieces of furniture. They are, I suspect, what these particular business owners can afford. And they will stand up to normal wear and tear but they are no match for deliberate vandalism.

For Heaven’s sake, Columbia/HoCo, don’t patronize a business, accept their service and kind hospitality, and then rip up their furniture. And don’t make excuses for kids who do it, either. It matters.

Just think. We are walking around every day in this town and among us are people who think nothing of destroying What someone else has worked for and walking away. Making a space that is meant to be shared by all less welcoming.  No apologies, no acceptance of responsibility, no restitution. “It just happened.”

When you hurt people and the things the work for it doesn’t “just happen”. When you can slink away without your identity being known you are at best a coward. At worst you are showing a profound disrespect for members of your community who are nothing more to you than purveyors of a product. Not people. Not fellow human beings. Invisible save for an exchange of cash.

We’ve got a second chance now. New booths, new vinyl. I wonder how long it will last?


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