Pay It Forward
While I was at the Walmart a few days ago, standing at the customer service desk, waiting almost patiently for someone to come service me, I kept looking around for that employee, and also noticing people as they walked around and behind me. I saw two fellows coming in from the out door - one bigger taller younger man and one smaller thinner older looking man using an inexpensive metal walking cane. It was apparent the older man was crippled by some medical condition;
They passed behind me and moved a bit into the store, but circled back to stand in "line" behind me. Both began pointedly staring behind the counter area, down at the counterspace directly in front of me, and sometimes at me too. I am sure most of you have experienced that and know why and what they were thinking.
"Is someone helping him? He has no groceries. It doesn't look like he is being helped. Why is he looking around? Why is he looking at me now?!"
Eventually someone did stomp over and assist me with a Money Order for my sister's rent. I paid for it, it was brusquely processed, impatiently printed, and handed to me with insincere graciousness. I looked at it to confirm it was the correct amount, casting a quick glance to my right to discover the older crippled man standing there now close to me in the line. He was standing up against a tall newspaper rack with his hands over it, carefully counting coins in his hand, using one hand for the pennies and nickels, the finger of the other hand sorting. His cane was up against the rack.
The corner of my mouth twitched as my teeth gritted together. Not that anyone could see that. Not with the mask on. What they could see was me holding the Money Order in one hand and my wallet in the other. I put the Money Order down onto the counter and opened my wallet, slowly and carefully counting out 5 single dollar bills. I had to do it carefully because when I wear the mask my eyeglasses get foggy from my breathing.
I took a step towards the man and caught his attention by saying, "Hey," and showed him the money in my hand. I did that slowly, as I was lowering my arm, just so he didn't think I was going to hit him. My actions were sudden and I was catching him unawares, engaging him out of the blue, and I needed to be clear about what I was doing. I mean, I am an older white man, wearing a white mask, he is a person of color, and I had to be sure that he and everyone else around us were totally clear that I wasn't a member of the Ku Klux Klan having a bad hair color day.
"Here," I said. His hands were occupied with the coins so I placed the money in front of them onto the top newspaper. His eyes widened considerably. Before he could say anything I smiled broadly and mischievously and said, "We are too old to be counting out coins, my friend. Let's not do that, at least not today."
He said, "Wow, thank you very much!" and I smiled again at him, smiled at the grumpy Walmart Customer Service person, turned and walked away and out the door.
It wasn't until I was almost back to my car before it dawned on me that no one saw me smiling those broad and mischievous smiles. Not behind the mask.
I drove back to my sister's apartment and finished doing things for her and came home. I didn't mention to her about that fellow at Walmart. When I got home I did not tell my father about it either. I didn't mention it to anyone in real life, or in Second Life either. Not until now.
The only reason I am writing about it is that I saw the title of the film Pay It Forward (2000) on a streaming service while looking for new titles to add to my movie queue. I saw the movie title, I remembered the storyline of it, and it clicked in with that recent Walmart memory.
The truth is that I was not "paying it forward" at that Walmart. I don't do that - and if I ever do "pay it forward" it would be rare and specific. Like in most things, the reason I did it was because that is just who I am. It is also true that when I don't do something for someone in apparent need, say "No" to street beggars, walk right past the Girl Scout Cookie Table, that too is me just being who I am.
Seeing that man counting out coins, that irked me. Perhaps I was paying it forward, subconsciously, after a fashion, because a little voice in the back of my brain was whispering, "That could be me one day." Dunno.
I mentioned counting out the single dollar bills carefully because of my eyeglasses being fogged up. That is me saying that I was being careful not to accidently give away more than 5 single dollar bills. I didn't want two stuck together, or a $5 bill mixed in by mistake, or God forbid, a 10 or 20! I am not that charitable. I am not that nice, even when I am being nice. That too, is me just being me. Or, the modern me in the current economy.
Did the man appreciate it? I don't care.
Did anyone around notice it, or think it was nice of me? I don't care.
The only thing that matters is that I wanted to do it at that moment - and also that as I was walking out of the Walmart Grocery Store no one was so incensed by my actions that they chucked a can of peaches at the back of my head. To me, that's a win-win.
Hmmm. Considering how the main character Trevor ended up in Pay It Forward, yes, indeed, I will take that as a win-win.
They passed behind me and moved a bit into the store, but circled back to stand in "line" behind me. Both began pointedly staring behind the counter area, down at the counterspace directly in front of me, and sometimes at me too. I am sure most of you have experienced that and know why and what they were thinking.
"Is someone helping him? He has no groceries. It doesn't look like he is being helped. Why is he looking around? Why is he looking at me now?!"
Eventually someone did stomp over and assist me with a Money Order for my sister's rent. I paid for it, it was brusquely processed, impatiently printed, and handed to me with insincere graciousness. I looked at it to confirm it was the correct amount, casting a quick glance to my right to discover the older crippled man standing there now close to me in the line. He was standing up against a tall newspaper rack with his hands over it, carefully counting coins in his hand, using one hand for the pennies and nickels, the finger of the other hand sorting. His cane was up against the rack.
The corner of my mouth twitched as my teeth gritted together. Not that anyone could see that. Not with the mask on. What they could see was me holding the Money Order in one hand and my wallet in the other. I put the Money Order down onto the counter and opened my wallet, slowly and carefully counting out 5 single dollar bills. I had to do it carefully because when I wear the mask my eyeglasses get foggy from my breathing.
I took a step towards the man and caught his attention by saying, "Hey," and showed him the money in my hand. I did that slowly, as I was lowering my arm, just so he didn't think I was going to hit him. My actions were sudden and I was catching him unawares, engaging him out of the blue, and I needed to be clear about what I was doing. I mean, I am an older white man, wearing a white mask, he is a person of color, and I had to be sure that he and everyone else around us were totally clear that I wasn't a member of the Ku Klux Klan having a bad hair color day.
"Here," I said. His hands were occupied with the coins so I placed the money in front of them onto the top newspaper. His eyes widened considerably. Before he could say anything I smiled broadly and mischievously and said, "We are too old to be counting out coins, my friend. Let's not do that, at least not today."
He said, "Wow, thank you very much!" and I smiled again at him, smiled at the grumpy Walmart Customer Service person, turned and walked away and out the door.
It wasn't until I was almost back to my car before it dawned on me that no one saw me smiling those broad and mischievous smiles. Not behind the mask.
I drove back to my sister's apartment and finished doing things for her and came home. I didn't mention to her about that fellow at Walmart. When I got home I did not tell my father about it either. I didn't mention it to anyone in real life, or in Second Life either. Not until now.
The only reason I am writing about it is that I saw the title of the film Pay It Forward (2000) on a streaming service while looking for new titles to add to my movie queue. I saw the movie title, I remembered the storyline of it, and it clicked in with that recent Walmart memory.
The truth is that I was not "paying it forward" at that Walmart. I don't do that - and if I ever do "pay it forward" it would be rare and specific. Like in most things, the reason I did it was because that is just who I am. It is also true that when I don't do something for someone in apparent need, say "No" to street beggars, walk right past the Girl Scout Cookie Table, that too is me just being who I am.
Seeing that man counting out coins, that irked me. Perhaps I was paying it forward, subconsciously, after a fashion, because a little voice in the back of my brain was whispering, "That could be me one day." Dunno.
I mentioned counting out the single dollar bills carefully because of my eyeglasses being fogged up. That is me saying that I was being careful not to accidently give away more than 5 single dollar bills. I didn't want two stuck together, or a $5 bill mixed in by mistake, or God forbid, a 10 or 20! I am not that charitable. I am not that nice, even when I am being nice. That too, is me just being me. Or, the modern me in the current economy.
Did the man appreciate it? I don't care.
Did anyone around notice it, or think it was nice of me? I don't care.
The only thing that matters is that I wanted to do it at that moment - and also that as I was walking out of the Walmart Grocery Store no one was so incensed by my actions that they chucked a can of peaches at the back of my head. To me, that's a win-win.
Hmmm. Considering how the main character Trevor ended up in Pay It Forward, yes, indeed, I will take that as a win-win.