A little cup of kindness

I’ve worked in research administration at the University of Queensland for the past 20 years, and previously I completed my undergraduate degree there, so I’ve actually spent half my life at this academic institution. One of the things I really love about working at the university is the people I’ve met, from many cultures and countries around the world. Being a world class university it attracts the best and brightest students and researchers and I’ve been privileged to get to know many of them over the years. However some of the nicest people I’ve met have been those who provide the support services to the university in various capacities.

When COVID-19 hit in early 2020 I was really sad to see many contract and casual staff lose their jobs at the university. While I was glad to be permanent and have job security, I really felt for those people I knew, with mortgages and children and no income for the foreseeable future. Very early in March 2020 the university decreed all remaining staff must work from home, except for essential staff like security and IT. The week this happened was a frantic flurry of activity, and by the Wednesday I found myself alone in the office as I worked to finish some tasks using an inhouse database I couldn’t access remotely from home. It was eerily quiet in the office but I had to admit I was getting more work done than when the place was filled with chatter and laughter.

By 10am I was sick of my own company, so I thought I’d wander down to Café Nano (named for the building it was located in which housed research on nanotechnology). As I walked down from my office I wondered if the cafe would even be open given that more than 90% of staff had been sent to work from home.

When I arrived at Nanos (our nickname for the cafe), the place was deserted except for one student picking up a takeaway coffee. The place would normally be buzzing at this time of day, as let’s face it, research runs on coffee! I saw Anne behind the counter, the attractive, normally vivacious, Vietnamese lady who owned and ran the café with her husband Paul. But today there was no welcoming smile on Anne’s face, instead a look of uncharacteristic sorrow which seemed like she might break into tears at any moment. She did muster up a greeting, calling me by name as she did to all her regulars.

“Hi Helen – the usual skinny latte?” she asked. “Yes thanks Anne” I said pondering what to say next.

As she made the coffee I made the somewhat trite observation that it was really quiet. “Yes” she said quietly through the expresso machine steam. “It’s been like this all week – this will be our last week open until I don’t know when”. She finished making the coffee and turned to me saying “How long do you think the lockdown will last”? I could swear I could see tears welling up in her eyes. Should I fudge the truth or tell her that our office had been told to expect a lockdown of at least three months?

I sipped on my coffee and said “Anne, I’m really sorry but it’s going to be at least three months from what I’ve been told.” Her shoulders dropped and she looked totally desolate.

“How can we handle three months without customers? We’ve worked so hard to establish this business to now have it destroyed by COVID. I honestly don’t know what we’re going to do. If only the university would waive the rent on the café for that time, maybe we could just scrape through. But paying the rent and having no customers will break us”.

I thought about what she said for a moment, wracking my brain to try and think of anything I could say that might help. What about a petition from Anne’s loyal customers to plead with the university for an amnesty on the café’s rent? But straight away I realised that wouldn’t work as all the loyal customers, bar myself and a couple of others, were no longer on campus. It seemed like a really harsh stance by the university management but I guess they were losing money by the bucketload too as no foreign students could come to Australia during the lockdown.

I said goodbye to Anne and promised her I’d be in tomorrow to get my lunch and coffee. It was little help to her financial situation but it was all I could do. As I walked off I said “Anne I hope something really good happens soon so I can see a smile back on your face again”. She waved to me but I could tell by her body language that she was defeated.

I went back to the office clutching the excellent coffee that Anne always made me. On a selfish level, I hated to think of returning to work when the lockdown ended and not having Café Nano there for my daily pickup. I prided myself on being an intelligent person but I could not come up with a solution to Anne’s dilemma. Feeling demoralised on Anne’s behalf I returned to my pile of work that needed to be done. I worked solidly for about an hour before my phone rang. There had been virtually no calls this week so I wondered who it might be?

As soon as I heard the amiable Scottish drawl on the other end of the phone I knew it was Professor McPherson. I had known the Professor since he was a Senior Lecturer and had watched his stellar career rise over the last decade. He had invented a rare cancer treatment, which had saved the lives of countless people around the world. He was the university’s poster boy for this resounding success, but he’d never changed his friendly and low key approach to all staff, even those such as myself who merely administrated as opposed to doing real research. He was kind enough to acknowledge the vital support role we played in his work, unlike some other prima donna academics that I knew.

“What are you doing in the office Helen – I thought you were all banished home because of the dreaded plague?”. I laughed – “Well Professor McPherson, there were still some urgent tasks to be done to ensure the critical research still ticks over while we’re in lockdown. I want to have a job to come back to after this is all over”.

“Aye lass” he said – “we have to think positive and remember humanity is pretty resilient despite what’s thrown at it. We have to look after each other and make sure we get through this together”.

When he said this a lightbulb went off in my head. It was a crazy thought but maybe not too crazy for this brilliant, eccentric gentleman. “Professor McPherson – I hope you don’t mind, but I have a question to ask you. Do you still meet weekly with the Vice Chancellor at that research scoping committee you set up after your cancer breakthrough?”

“Yes he said – I’m actually due to meet him tomorrow for the final meeting for the next few months. It will be all Zoom meetings after this one. Why do you ask?”

I took a deep breath and said “Well….” I filled him in on Anne’s situation and how desperate she was, and how much the university community would need her to be back in business after the lockdown ended. I pleaded with him to ask the Vice Chancellor for an amnesty on Café Nano’s rent for three months so they had a chance for survival.

There was silence at the end of the phone and then a chuckle as he said “Sure lass, I can do that. You put a good case forward, and let’s face it I’ve made that much money for this university the Vice Chancellor can afford to indulge me this once”. I breathed a sigh of relief and said “Thank-you so much Professor McPherson, you are an amazing man!”. He chuckled again and ended the call saying “I’ll keep you posted”. I had the biggest grin on my face when I hung up. I didn’t know it Professor McPherson could pull this off, but if not him who else then?

The next morning I eagerly checked my voicemail and emails, but there was no message from Professor McPherson. I told myself to keep my hopes in check because despite Professor MacPherson’s persuasive powers the Vice Chancellor still might say no. I couldn’t quite deal with that thought at the moment so I headed down the café around 10am to see how Anne was. When I got there she was furiously cleaning all the benches and surfaces in the café as there were no customers other than myself. I dare not tell her of my plan in case it all fell through. We chatted quietly for a few minutes and I left her to her cleaning therapy which was filling the empty hours for her.

I worked in the quiet, solitude of the office for the rest of the day and became slightly despondent when there was no word from the Professor by 5pm. The meeting with the Vice Chancellor had been at 2pm today, and although they were long meetings surely he’d let me know the outcome of my request by now?

I packed my things and turned the lights off in the office and headed to the bus stop. I idly looked at my phone and realised there was a text message there which had only come through a few minutes earlier. It was from Professor McPherson – but how did he have my mobile number? Then I remembered years ago when he first started at the university I’d given him my number when he was worried about an adverse event occurring with his mice colonies. He had a new genetically modified breed who were quite delicate and wanted to notify my office immediately if there were any problems. Obviously he had kept my number just in case.

I strained to read the text message and almost jumped out of my seat when I read it. ‘”Tell your friend she can keep serving little cups of kindness, the VC has agreed to waive her rent payments and she will be notified tomorrow 😊”

I quickly texted him back “Thank-you so much, I owe you one!” This was amazing news and I couldn’t wait for Anne to find out!

Friday was my last day in the office, and like clockwork I went down to Café Nano at 10am. The difference however was I could hear music playing on a radio, and Anne and her husband Paul were dancing in the café with big grins on their faces. When Anne saw me she called “Helen, you won’t believe it – the university has agreed to waive our rent during the lockdown. It means we won’t go broke and lose our business."

I had decided I wouldn’t tell her about my intervention, so I acted surprised and with a big grin said “You totally deserve this – you two are amazing. We can’t lose you from UQ, it wouldn’t be right. Anne nodded and then said “The usual Helen”? as she made me a skinny latte. It was so lovely to see the changes in Anne, she’d regained her bubbly nature and optimism which were her hallmark traits.

As she handed me the steaming coffee she said with a smile “See you after lockdown”? I grinned back and said “Sure will – knowing you’ll be here with your kindness and amazing coffee makes it worth coming back ”.