And That’s How The Kindness Cookie Crumbles

It’s the dead of winter, it’s almost 8:00 pm, I’ve just finished work five hours late, and I’m exhausted and hungry. The day has been a nightmare from the start and I’m at the end of my rope for dealing with nonsense. I’m not angry, just worn out. I stop off at a sandwich shop on my way home.

I get in line behind a gaggle of fourteen- and fifteen-year-olds. No biggie, I haven’t eaten since lunch, so what’re a few more minutes?

From the start, the teenagers are snotty and entitled, almost deliberately trying to fluster the cashier. I think about saying something, but with the mood I am in, it wouldn’t go well. Instead, I just walk out and go to another location of the same chain not too far away.

I walk in, and thankfully, this one is quiet. I must look about as good as I am feeling because the man behind the counter strikes up a conversation. I don’t go into detail or mention anything about the other shop, but it is nice to have someone listen for a minute.

We chat a bit more as he cashes me out, and by the end, I have a smile on my face — or as much of one as I can manage. I thank him for the food and for listening, and I finish my drive home.

When I open the bag up, I find that the employee slipped in a handful of extra cookies. He went out of his way to make my awful day better.

It’s been a few years since this happened and I still haven’t forgotten it. Whoever you are, thank you. I hope the world has returned your kindness.

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