Farrell: Who's the jerk who stopped the pay-it-forward chain?
For the past five years, a customer at the Corner Perk Cafe in Old Town Bluffton has occasionally left $100 with the cashier to pay the tabs of anyone who comes in after her until the money runs out.
It's a good day when this happens.
Recipients of the anonymous woman's kindness are surprised.
Oftentimes this prompts them to pay it forward and give money too.
Other times they put the equivalent of what their orders would've cost directly into the tip jar, which makes the baristas happy.
In 2012, the pay-the-coffee-forward momentum even lasted a couple of days. Bluffton was the Nicest Town in America, and Corner Perk appeared on news stations across the country, NPR, the "Today" show and all sorts of sites heralding proof that there is goodness in this world, after all.
It's heart-warming.
So how would you have liked to have been the person to break that days-long chain of generosity? The person who said, "Cool. Um, thanks. ....... Goodbye now! Take care!"?
It was someone. Someone out there did it.
I'm not going to lie -- I'm probably that person.
Maybe not at Corner Perk that time, but I have been known to drive away, to not immediately pay it forward, to have my good day made bad by a stranger's sweet gesture.
I'm aware of how this sounds.
It weighs on my soul.
It's not the random act of kindness that bothers me -- not at all. It's what happens afterward. It's "the chain." It's the social pressure of taking part in someone else's game when all I wanted was a cup of coffee and to be on my way.
"Your reaction by no means makes you a 'beast,'" wrote Ashley Harrell, a doctoral candidate in sociology at the University of South Carolina, in response to an email I sent her Monday. "You've touched on an important point with these pay-it-forward chains. The first 'link' in the chain helps because, well, they want to -- whether (out of) pure generosity, the warm-glow boost they get from helping a stranger, or some combination of the two."
In the past three years alone, I've been treated by generous warm-glowers in the car ahead of mine five times.
This is a lot, according to my poll of two other people.
The first time caught me off-guard. The man in front of me paid for my Humiliating Fat Day "Calories for 20" Meal, and he no doubt had to wonder where the other eaters in my car were.
I did not pay it forward. In fact, I didn't even understand what the cashier was telling me. The guy in front of me did what now? Why?
The only thing I wanted in the whole wide world at that point was to leave, but the man who paid stopped his truck twice in front of my car on the way out of the parking lot.
Abruptly and with purpose.
He wanted something from me. I knew it.
Looking back, I realize he was probably expecting nothing more than the obligatory light-flash-of-gratitude, but I was too terrified and mortified to thank him. Also, I wasn't at all grateful, especially when he seemed to follow me for miles after I passed him on the road.
Terrible, right? Instead of being normal, I writhed until I was out of the grip of kindness.
The next two times happened at Starbucks.
I gritted my teeth and self-ranted all the way home. Again, I did not pay it forward.
I actually resented the people who bought my drinks. And I resented the baristas who seemed to be counting on me to keep their days interesting. Why do I have to be part of your narrative? Who do you think you're helping anyway? If I'm buying Starbucks, I probably can afford to buy Starbucks. Surely there are better places and ways to do something nice for someone.
The fourth time, I could only shake my head. The bill was $2.50, so I didn't feel ashamed, but I also didn't offer to pay for the car behind me.
Why does this keep happening to me? Why am I put in this position where people keep giving me free things?
The guilt was unbearable. I drove away feeling like the worst person in the world.
I should've done it. I should've just paid for the stupid car behind me. But I really do not like being told, "La la la, this is what we're doing today to feel good about ourselves! Happy-dance with us! La la la. Wait! Where are you going? We have candles!!"
As Harrell said, the first person in the chain gets to do something wonderful out of the goodness of his or her heart -- something for which they had full discretionary power. Those of us left with the question of reciprocity, though, sometimes have an entirely different experience.
"Someone in this position might choose to pay it forward not just out of gratitude for having been helped, but also because they risk looking selfish if they do not," Harrell wrote. "This reputational incentive is not at stake for the first mover in the chain -- only for those whose meal has been paid for and who therefore risk being seen as selfish if they do not comply with what is seen, by most people, as the right thing to do: to pay it forward."
The fifth time happened to me last week.
And ... I paid it forward.
I went to Starbucks because I had a free drink on my rewards card. My budget for that visit: $0. My bill for that visit: $10.
I was so worn out by other people's kindness that when the barista told me my drink was already paid for, I all but put my hands up.
You got me, universe. You've finally gotten me. I owe you, and I am paying you back.
"OK. Great. Yes, I'll pay for the car behind me."
And then I laughed, because I realized it didn't matter one bit to me what the car behind me decided to do afterward.
It wasn't about that at all.
But I do hope they enjoyed the gift, felt no pressure and drove away happy.
Follow columnist and senior editor Liz Farrell at twitter.com/elizfarrell and facebook.com/elizfarrell.
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This story was originally published January 4, 2016 at 5:43 PM with the headline "Farrell: Who's the jerk who stopped the pay-it-forward chain?."