Some days I hate doing errands. Between shopping for my own family and running errands for my mother, who no longer drives, I’m always running somewhere for someone and it’s usually at the end of a hectic day. I’m tired, cranky, and putting another charge on the credit card with a balance that looms like a gaseous cloud from Mt. St Helens. I don’t always feel like smiling. I’d rather zoom in and out of the store without making eye contact with anyone. But I’m making a conscious effort to be the person who smiles, even when the checkout girl is rude, or the undisciplined toddler who shouldn’t be driving a shopping cart runs up my heels.
Both of my daughters worked in the food service industry as teens. They tell me that 90% of customers are mean, rude, or entitled. I don’t want to be counted among them.
Living in a tourist town, it’s hard not to get a little crazy when thousands of “extra people” descend, and running out for a gallon of milk turns from a five-minute errand to a twenty-five minute test of my patience. Recently, as traffic inched along on a blistering summer day, I stopped to let someone pull out into traffic and they started blowing me kisses. I laughed out loud. Kindness is like that. It’s catchy.
What small act of kindness can make your day?
