paying it backward
The other day I was the beneficiary of a classic random act of kindness, and its name was "paying for the person behind you in the drive-thru."
This had never happened to me before. I was gobsmacked. For starters, this was the secret Tim Hortons, the one that literally nobody knows about. It's attached to a gas station on Maple Road and has almost no visible signage. Even if you know it's there, the drive-thru lane is hard to find, tucked away by a dumpster. It's rare for me to ever encounter another vehicle there. So having to wait behind one was already throwing me off.
Then I got to the window, and the girl said, "You're all set. The person ahead of you paid for you."
"Oh! Well, thanks!" I said, stupidly. "Thanks very much!"
She nodded.
I almost tried to explain that I knew she, herself, hadn't paid for me, but that she did deserve a "thanks" for pouring my coffee and handing it out the window. But I was pretty sure she got that.
"Bye," I offered.
As I pulled away, I visually scanned for the person who had bought my coffee. They only had ten seconds on me; they might still be around. A white SUV had pulled over to one of the gas pumps. I wasn't sure it was the vehicle I'd waited behind. I have a remarkable, almost superhuman ability to toggle off conscious observation of my surroundings, and I don't think I could have described that vehicle for a pallet of C-notes. The driver of the white SUV was probably not my benefactor.
But what if he was? He was exiting his vehicle, turning my way. If we looked at each other and I didn't even acknowledge him, I might seem an ungrateful blighter. On the other hand, if he were not my patron, and I flashed a grin--shouted thanks, mister!--well, then, I would look a real nutter.
Judiciously, I split the difference and gave the fellow one of these:
This had never happened to me before. I was gobsmacked. For starters, this was the secret Tim Hortons, the one that literally nobody knows about. It's attached to a gas station on Maple Road and has almost no visible signage. Even if you know it's there, the drive-thru lane is hard to find, tucked away by a dumpster. It's rare for me to ever encounter another vehicle there. So having to wait behind one was already throwing me off.
Then I got to the window, and the girl said, "You're all set. The person ahead of you paid for you."
"Oh! Well, thanks!" I said, stupidly. "Thanks very much!"
She nodded.
I almost tried to explain that I knew she, herself, hadn't paid for me, but that she did deserve a "thanks" for pouring my coffee and handing it out the window. But I was pretty sure she got that.
"Bye," I offered.
As I pulled away, I visually scanned for the person who had bought my coffee. They only had ten seconds on me; they might still be around. A white SUV had pulled over to one of the gas pumps. I wasn't sure it was the vehicle I'd waited behind. I have a remarkable, almost superhuman ability to toggle off conscious observation of my surroundings, and I don't think I could have described that vehicle for a pallet of C-notes. The driver of the white SUV was probably not my benefactor.
But what if he was? He was exiting his vehicle, turning my way. If we looked at each other and I didn't even acknowledge him, I might seem an ungrateful blighter. On the other hand, if he were not my patron, and I flashed a grin--shouted thanks, mister!--well, then, I would look a real nutter.
Judiciously, I split the difference and gave the fellow one of these: