Refill The Coffee Pot

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There’s a quiet, beautiful kind of heroism in those who refill the coffee pot. Or the kaapi filter, for us South Indians. Or the Moka pot, for fancy coffee enthusiasts. Although the title suggests this, trust me, this post is not about coffee. It is about people. You know the type, those rare angels who, upon taking the last sip, pause, rinse, and refill so the next caffeine-deprived soul doesn’t suffer the heartbreak of an empty pot. It seems small, almost trivial, but to me, it’s a gesture that represents something bigger: the philosophy of “Make it easy for the next person”, something I firmly believe in. I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately - how the people I admire most, both in my life and in the world, are the ones who turn around and smooth the road for the person behind them, instead of walking away like it’s not their problem.

Let’s be real, most of us have been on the receiving end of a messy handover. Whether it’s a work project with no documentation or a fridge mysteriously empty when you are ravenously hungry, it leaves us frazzled, scrambling, and utterly disappointed. On the flip side, when someone leaves behind clear instructions, stocks the pantry, or simply takes five minutes to tidy up before leaving, they leave behind more than order, they leave behind kindness. A sense that someone thought of you. That’s powerful.

I remember reading how Oprah often talks about leaving the door open for others. “When you’ve been freed,” she said, “it’s your job to free somebody else.” It hit me like a ton of bricks. That’s not just about money or fame, it’s about wisdom, effort, emotional labor. It’s about documenting the chaos you just untangled so the next person doesn’t have to lose sleep figuring it out. It’s about pulling up another chair at the table. Or simply doing the dishes before leaving the kitchen. Yet, so many people fall into what I lovingly call the “Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi Syndrome.” The belief that “I had to suffer, so you must too.” I've seen it in workplaces, families, even friendships - this strange pride in suffering, this badge of honor that says, “I did it the hard way, so should you.” Here’s the truth: just because you went through the fire doesn’t mean you have to light the same fire for someone else. You can hand them water instead.

I’ve had team members who refused to guide new hires because no one helped them when they joined. They outrightly refuse to point them to the right direction, no matter how much they are requested or no matter how much they see the others struggle. This is something I've experienced myself and it was no less than hell. I've hence ensured no one else goes through it. I’ve seen firsthand, women who are housewives, who make their working daughters-in-law cook and clean everyday, because “We had to do it too.” The fact that a woman is aware of the fact that she's troubling another woman, and yet wants to do this because they think they have earned the right to do so after having gone through it years ago, is troublesome to say the least. 

I’ve had seniors at work who hoarded knowledge because they believed struggling builds character. Maybe it does, but so does mentorship. So does kindness. I think this speaks volumes about the insecurity of a few seniors, who are worried that they'll lose their importance once the knowledge is shared. It is not about spoon-feeding. It is about pointing people in the right direction and enabling them.

Funnily enough, when you make it easier for the next person, you win too. You build trust. You create a cycle of generosity. You don’t get pinged at 10 P.M. or on a vacation with frantic questions because you already wrote the handover email in precise detail. You walk into a clean kitchen with freshly cooked food because someone saw you cook and clean-up yesterday and decided to return the favor. People don’t forget how you made them feel - and if you made them feel seen, considered, cared for, that legacy lasts longer than any bullet point on your résumé or the dust on the "World's Best Partner" trophy.

I’ve come to believe that the real mark of someone who has “made it” isn’t how high they’ve climbed, but how many they’ve lifted. Look at Taylor Swift, she pays her crew generously, gives bonuses to truck drivers, and even supports rising artists. Or Keanu Reeves, who’s infamous for taking pay cuts so others on set can be paid better. These aren’t just PR moves. These are choices made by people who remember what the climb felt like, and decided to install ladders instead of pulling them up behind them.

So, refill the coffee pot. Leave behind a clean house. Write the onboarding guide. Tell the intern where the best documentation is stored. If you’ve suffered in silence before, make some noise now - to help someone else skip the pain. Making it easy for the next person doesn’t mean you’re spoiling them. It means you’re healing something in yourself too. A little less bitterness. A little more warmth. That, to me, is progress. That, to me, is love. That, to me, is being human.