At Ease: Sarge and the Coffee Shop Vets

There wasn’t a single veteran on the sidewalk outside the coffee shop. I was saddened by this, believing they couldn’t continue their morning meetings because of the cold weather. Still, I approached the carry-out window to order a hot drink — and saw that the whole bunch of them were inside, all seated 6 feet apart in their lawn chairs.

I poked my head through the door and was waved in.

“I have an announcement,” Sarge said from his perch on a stool at the counter. He rapped his COVID measuring stick on the floor. “We can’t stay out in the cold all winter,” he said. “So, I bought this place. VA small-business loan. Welcome to our new clubhouse.”

The group exploded with questions, of course. He explained, “I bought it, but we’re the only ones who will be allowed in here. To keep to all the virus rules, we’ll sell coffee through the window, maybe make hot meals for homeless vets if anybody knows how to cook. But you all have to sign up as employees.”

That naturally got a huge reaction about government regulations, phony COVID stats and privacy. “We’re limited in how many we can have in here,” he countered, “unless you’re employees. In case somebody rats us out and sends the authorities around.”

Sarge was serious, and he had the paperwork to prove it. He waved a sheaf of documents and handed out a stack of W-4 forms. They all got busy writing in their names and Social Security numbers on documents that would never be sent to the IRS.

“You up for it, son?” He waved a form at me.

What the heck, right? I know how to cook, courtesy of the Army. So I took the form and filled it out. I knew I was officially admitted to the group, after all this time, when Sarge told me to bring a lawn chair.