I want you to paint a picture in your mind…

Paint entitlement.

Are you feeling uncomfortable yet…?

I’ve been training, writing, and speaking about privilege for over 15 years, and I discovered something uncomfortable about my sense of entitlement…while visiting a Manhattan coffee shop.

Our perception of entitlement is, by its very nature, invisible to those of us who enjoy it like we enjoy breathing the air. But an awareness of our inherent privilege – the freedom we enjoy to move about without fear of judgment or persecution – is vital to living a compassionate, caring life. We need to be looking out for people who don’t enjoy the same privilege.

Let me paint my picture for you. It’s important that we talk about this because…

1. The work is never done.
2. We’re afraid to stare entitlement in the face.

So let’s dive in…

That’s my table.

I was returning from a vacation in Jamaica, a complete indulgence. It was nine days of floating, eating, sleeping, massages…

I found myself camped out at a friend’s place in Manhattan on the homeward journey. If you’ve ever been to New York, you’ll know that the pace downtown is the polar opposite of Jamaica.

I had one day left on my “out of office” email reply and decided to wade headlong into my Inbox so it wouldn’t be so overwhelming when I got home. I opted to make a Starbucks my branch office for the day. As you may know, Starbucks is as common as taxicabs in downtown Manhattan. I had my choice of a half dozen within a stone’s throw…

The one I chose turned out to be a gathering spot for high school students. It was a quarter to nine and they were all congregated at the tables along the one wall where it turned out, all the power outlets were, as well.

Entitled little creatures. All of them staring at their excuse for a window to the world – their smartphones – taking selfies, checking on Snapchat, Facebook, and Instagram. Why weren’t they interacting with one another?! How sad…

Balancing my coffee and my breakfast wrap in a corner beside the key-coded bathroom, staring down the teenagers, I made a judgment about these intruders in my morning.

I asked the barista how much longer I’d have to endure this invasion, this monopoly on the power outlets I needed so that I could check my email, get caught up on my social media accounts…

Right. Hello hypocrisy, how’s your day so far? Come here often?

“Don’t worry,” she said, “they’ll clear out just after 9:00, that’s when school starts.”

I honed in on the table I wanted: the one in the corner, padded seat, heating vent on the floor, an outlet on the wall, across from the bathroom, behind a column. A perfect hiding place. My hiding place.

Sure enough, the evacuation was hasty when someone noticed it was 9:04 am…they were late for school. They unplugged their devices, bundled their belongings, and left. I headed towards “my table” and realized there were a bunch of us all on the same mission…adult vultures circling, waiting for an opening…

I settled into my seat, plugged myself in, and hunkered down.

The warmth of entitlement.

New York is nippy in the wintertime. The opportunity to sit somewhere warm, dry, and safe is a privilege we take for granted. But for the many people who live on the streets, or in cramped, poorly-maintained apartments, the brief respite inside a ubiquitous, social Starbucks is the difference between a healthy body temperature and bone-chilling cold.

I sat at “my table” for a full seven hours..unquestioned, unchallenged. I conquered my Inbox. I updated my social media pages, I synched my digital calendar with my paper one…and I watched the world go by.

I watched people, who were likely homeless, make an attempt to come in from the cold, use the code-locked bathroom. I heard one of the staff admonish a patron for drifting off to sleep in his seat.

“You can stay as long as you like,” she said, “but you can’t fall asleep…not even for a second.” Who hasn’t drifted into a trance-like state while reading a report on their laptop? Is there a difference between that and dozing off?

Everyone in the shop had a coffee, but I made a decision about the patrons and the interlopers, who were who…who belonged, who didn’t…

I met a man named George, another vulture like me. We lamented the state of teenagers…their disengagement from real life, their obsession with their laptops, and their cellphones. Then we both returned to our laptops and our cellphones…

You again, hypocrisy, didn’t we meet earlier…?

At one point in the day, I was enlisted to guard a backpack…probably containing the entirety of the owner’s worldly possessions. I guess I looked trustworthy…me, my laptop, my cellphone, my latté.

Three hours passed…I spotted him outside and gestured to his backpack, which he’d apparently forgotten he’d entrusted to me. Surprised at his oversight, he came back into the store to retrieve it and asked if I knew Richard Branson, “the Virgin Airlines guy.”

He asked me the question a dozen times over. Every time I told him I didn’t, his reply was the same…

“He is rich like you. I thought you all knew each other.”

Everyone deserves a seat at the table.

That day spent in the heart of Manhattan was a grounding reminder to me about my sense of entitlement. Now, more than ever, the disenfranchised are feeling the pinch of a society that can often gloss over the cracks in our system.

I had the privilege of a seat at the table in Starbucks, just as I have the privilege of respect and validation because I look like a friend of Richard Branson’s. As we work towards a more inclusive, more balanced society, we must remain mindful of the widening gap…and make every effort to close it.

If you’d like help aligning your company’s values so that the gap is narrowed, contact me. There are plenty of ways to engage your team, even during these uncertain times.