I used to have a psychotherapy office on 40th Street in Manhattan, at the bottom of Times Square. It wasn’t my first location choice for a therapy office, but the rent was right for my needs. Over time it grew on me and I became accustomed to the grunginess of it while appreciating the feel of the crowded noisy streets in contrast with my quiet, yet warehouse-like office in the back of the building.
Many days I would go outside to grab a coffee around 3pm to break up the day and get ready for evening clients. As you might imagine, there were several places to choose from; Starbucks, Gregory’s, The Boulangerie, Paris Bakery, Au Bon Pain, and of course, a smattering of delis.
My favorite place was a deli across the street. Modest, clean and basically no different from any of the other delis in the area, except for the man making the coffee. He was an Asian man, perhaps in his 60’s; a little older than the other folks I usually see behind a deli counter. I would present the same order each time; “Hi-small regular with half a sugar, thanks”. He knew the New York slang and from my frequent visits probably knew what I was going to say as soon as he saw me. He would quietly turn around, make the coffee, carefully wrap a napkin around the cup, and hand it to me with two hands. I would take it with two hands, as I have learned that this is a gesture of common respect and politeness in Korean culture. But then, something incredible would happen. He would bow to me.
The first time he did it, I was shocked and felt a little giddy and embarrassed…talking to myself all the way back to my office. What do I do with this? Should I bow back? That’s weird, because I’m some American white lady. Would that be insulting to him? Why is he bowing? It’s just coffee!
But there was a feeling inside me- underneath the “should” of my intercultural etiquette conundrum, and beyond the embarrassment…I felt a warmth and a respect in my body. The coffee somehow tasted better than other coffee in the area, and I felt a sense of peace and wholeness that was both strange and familiar. My mind was racing, while my body felt so seen- so connected to this beautiful human being at the deli.
Each time I would go back, I planned to bow back, but several times chickened out. My intellect jumped in again, and said something like, “He probably does that with everybody out of habit,” and “It would just be weird for you to bow when it’s not in your culture’s gestural vernacular!”
I gave up trying and enjoyed his bow each time, feeling good about myself and started to leave a tip to compensate for my American sheepishness; “He was working, for goodness’ sake! This is his job! Leave a tip!” my guilt would say.
One day, I went in, ordered the coffee, received the cup, napkin, bow, and without thinking I bowed back. Immediately I felt this rush of incredible honor and respect for this man, and for his life. We were not strangers anymore – we were two people acknowledging a shared existence with an unspoken reverence that was meaningful.
In returning respect to him, I felt as if I received again. That was fourteen years ago. Today I often find myself bowing to clients as they leave the office; not an intentional movement until I am in mid-bow, my body reminds me of what it means to show respect and actionable acknowledgement to another person. I enjoy seeing their reaction; some look embarrassed, some smile…and sometimes, every once in awhile…someone bows back.
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