The Cushy Chair By The Window

This story arrived over the transom earlier this week.
 

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Last night, I was on my own, which was fine because I had a stack of reports to edit. I was feeling a bit claustrophobic and didn't want to work at my desk at home, so I walked over to the nearby Starbucks with my laptop and a few file folders tucked in my bag.

Inside Starbucks, all of the seats at the tables were taken. There was just one unused cushy chair by the front window, so I sat in The Cushy Chair. I noticed a woman, probably in her late thirties, sitting directly across from me in another cushy chair. I'll call her Woman #1. Woman #1 looked like she was getting some work done, too.

I really would have preferred to sit at a table where I could set my folders beside my laptop, so when a seat at a table opened up about forty-five minutes later, I gathered up my things and moved to the open spot.

Almost as soon as I gave up The Cushy Chair, a young man took my place across from Woman #1, who was still seated in the other cushy chair.

The young man in The Cushy Chair left about thirty minutes later and another woman, I'll call her Woman #2, was the next to claim The Cushy Chair across from Woman #1.

I noticed Woman #2 because I often see her roaming the neighborhood. She looks about age fifty and appears to be someone who's been in the mental health system for a long time. She has straggly hair, tardive dyskinesia and the weather-beaten look of someone who's seen years of hard times through a haze of Haldol and cigarette smoke.


Out of the blue, Woman #1 looks at Woman #2 sitting across from her and asks: do you have schizophrenia? She asked, just like that. I kid you not.

Woman #2 replies: no, I don't.

It was not more than five minute later when another woman, this one probably in her late twenties, I'll call her Ms. Audacity, approached Woman #2 and said that she left her iPad on a nearby table earlier, and she wondered if Woman #2 had seen it.

Woman #2 answers: no, I just got here.

But Ms. Audacity continues to question Woman #2, asking her several times about the missing iPad.

Another woman, I'll call her Woman #3, interrupted the investigation to ask Ms. Audacity what was going on. Ms. Audacity explained that she had been in Starbucks earlier and, she's not sure, but she thinks she might have left her iPad on the table where Woman #3 is sitting. But she's not questioning Woman #3. Instead, she's questioning Woman #2, who is sitting in The Cushy Chair that is actually facing away from the table where Ms. Audacity thinks she left her iPad.

Ms. Audacity turns back to Woman #2 and, with a creepy tone in her voice, says: I know you didn't take it, but if you would do me the kindness of letting me look in your bag, it would give me peace of mind. She was referring to a plastic grocery bag on the floor by beside Woman #2's feet.

Woman #2 says: I don't have it. I wouldn't take nothing that doesn't belong to me.

Ms. Audacity starts repeating herself in that creepy tone of voice: I know you didn't take it, but if you would do me the kindness of letting me look in your bag, it would give me peace of mind.

Woman #2 tried to ignore her, but Ms. Audacity persisted.

I know you didn't take it, but if you would do me the kindness of letting me look in your bag, it would give me peace of mind.

Again, Woman #2 answers: I don't have it. I wouldn't take nothing if it doesn't belong to me.

But Ms. Audacity keeps going: I know you didn't take it, but if you would just do me the kindness, just do me the kindness...

By now, everyone in that section of the Starbucks is watching and listening.

Finally, Woman #2 relents. She opens her plastic shopping bag and shows Ms. Audacity that she doesn't have the iPad in her bag.

I wouldn't take nothing that doesn't belong to me, she repeats, I wouldn't take nothing that doesn't belong to me.

Without missing a beat, Ms. Audacity continues her investigation.

I know you didn't take it, but if you would do me the kindness of letting me look in your purse. Just do me the kindness of letting me look in your purse, so I can have some peace of mind.

Woman #2, shakes her head and answers: no.

Ms. Audacity acts as if she didn't hear the reply and continues to ask Woman #2 if she would do her the kindness of letting her look in Woman #2's purse.

Remember, it was Woman #3 who was actually sitting at the table where Ms. Audacity thinks she might have left her iPad, not to mention, about ten people besides Woman #2 were sitting in the vicinity of that table, not to mention, that table is right by the front door and customers have been streaming in and out continuously. Anyone might have picked up the iPad if Ms. Audacity had, indeed, left her iPad on that table.

But Ms. Audacity zeroed in on just one suspect, the woman sitting in The Cushy Chair, the one who looks like she's been in the mental health system for years.

If you would do me the kindness of letting me look in your purse, for my peace of mind. I know you didn't take it, but if you would do me the kindness.

At that point, I rose from  my chair and approached Ms. Audacity. Standing between Ms. Audacity and the woman in The Cushy Chair, I asked Ms. Audacity when it was that she left her iPad on the table.

About an hour ago, she says.

I tell her that Woman #2 arrived only about fifteen minutes earlier and that I had been sitting in The Cushy Chair about an hour ago, and I didn't see her iPad.

Ms. Audacity answers: I know she didn't take it, but for my peace of mind, if she would just do me the kindness of letting me look in her purse.

We go back and forth, me telling her that she needs to stop harassing the woman in The Cushy Chair, while Ms. Audacity keeps repeating herself.

If she would just do me the kindness of letting me look in her purse.

By now, Woman #1 has also had enough. She tells Ms. Audacity that Woman #2 arrived only a few minutes earlier, adding that other customers were sitting in The Cushy Chair before Woman #2 arrived.

Ms. Audacity is having none of it.

If you would just do me the kindness... for my peace of mind... for my peace of mind.

Then a police officer enters the Starbucks. I tell Ms. Audacity that she needs to leave Woman #2 alone. She is not entitled to look in her purse. I pointed toward the counter and said: there is a police officer. If you think she has your iPad, you should explain it to him and let him handle it.

Ms. Audacity doesn't want to talk to the police officer.

If she would just do me the kindness... if you would just let me look in your purse... for my peace of mind.

I tell Ms. Audacity that I'm going to let the police officer know what's going on if she doesn't stop bothering Woman #2.

If you would just do me the kindness...

So I approach the police officer who is now standing at the register and try to explain, briefly, what's going on in our corner of Starbucks.

I returned to my seat and the police officer approached Ms. Audacity. He had her step away and the two spoke quietly for no more than 30 seconds. Then the police officer did an abrupt about-face, and walked over to Woman #2. Looking down at Woman #2, who was still seated in The Cushy Chair, the officer barked at her: open your purse!

Woman #2 was startled by the sharpness of the officer's command. So was I. Without a word, she immediately complied with the officer's order.

The officer looked into the purse, did another sudden about-face, and returned to speak with Ms. Audacity. The iPad wasn't in the purse because Woman #2 didn't take it.

Now, Woman #1, the woman sitting in the other cushy chair, raises her voice:

I can't believe that! That was an illegal search! I can't believe you did that, she scolds the police officer. She repeats to Woman #2: he can't do that. That was illegal.

By now some other officers have arrived. They all conferred briefly, and then the police officer who looked into the purse had words with Woman #1 while the other officers escorted Ms. Audacity out the front door.

Woman #1 sounds like she knows people at the department and she says she's going to report the officer. Back and forth, they argue. The officer is pissed, but maintains self-control. He tells Woman #1 his name, and insists that he did nothing wrong.

Then, scolding the police officer, Woman #1 waves her hand toward the rest of us and says: there are all these witnesses to what you did. And then, for the rest of us, she adds: I'm sick of seeing the crap these guys pull all the time!

The officer walks out and speaks with the other officers who are still talking with Ms. Audacity on the sidewalk in front of Starbucks. He returns a short time later, and demands Woman #1's identification.

Woman #1 hesitates, and he demands it again, saying that she must give him her ID since she informed him that she is going to lodge a complaint. He needs it for his report.

She tells him she doesn't have ID on her, so he demands to know her name.

She tells him her name, and then he turns to the mentally ill woman in The Cushy Chair and asks for her identification. This time he isn't nearly as sharp with her. Looking frightened, she hesitates.

I'm sorry, but I have to see your identification for my report because SHE--he points to Woman #1--is going to file a complaint.

The Woman in The Cushy Chair pulls her ID from her purse and hands it to the police officer. He steps away and writes down her info. After he returns her ID, the officer presents one card each, to Woman #1 and Woman #2. Then he leaves.

Woman #1 keeps repeating, for all to hear: that was illegal. What he did was illegal.

Woman #2 looks worried. Why did he give me this? she asks, holding up the card. Why did he give me this card?

I'm not sure, but I think the card had contact information to file an official complaint with the police department.

Woman #1 said something in an effort to comfort Woman #2. Then things got quiet, and Woman #2 gave up The Cushy Chair and left Starbucks.