Raising A Good Egg

(I work as a bagger at my local grocery store. It’s a typical mid-week afternoon, with a steady stream of orders. The cashier I’m bagging for is an elderly woman in her 80s, and a wonderful person to work with.)

Cashier: “[My Name], could you grab some towels? A kid dropped a carton of eggs at the front of my line.”

Me: “Sure thing, [Cashier]. I’ll clean it up.”

(I grab a roll of towels, a bottle of cleaner, and a plastic bag. I walk around to where the mess is, and find a dozen-egg carton on the floor, and a father frowning at his toddler son, who’s sitting in the cart.)

Me: “I’ll get this cleaned up, sir. Don’t worry. Would you like me to get you a new carton of eggs?”

Father: “No, thanks, miss; my wife’s getting the eggs.” *to his son, who looks a bit confused* “Tell the nice lady you’re sorry for making a mess she has to clean up.”

(The boy doesn’t say anything, but he looks contrite, so I don’t get mad. Besides, he didn’t do it on purpose. The family leaves, I get the eggs cleaned up, and all is well. Three weeks later, I’m bagging for the same cashier, when the father and son come through our line, although I don’t recognize them at first.)

Son: *very firmly* “My name is George.”

Me: “Well, hello, George!”

Son: “I’m really sorry for dropping the eggs.”

(At this point I recognize the two, and I grin.)

Me: “Why, thank you, George. That’s a very nice thing to say. Apology accepted!”

(As it turned out, the father had been hoping to catch me at work so that his son could apologize. Good on him for raising his son to be a gentleman!)