I used to work overnights in a middle-of-nowhere convenience store in east Tennessee hill country. People often asked me if I, a woman, was ever worried about being on my own all night. I wasn’t, and this helps to illustrate why.
My significant other (now my wife, but at that time presenting as male) sometimes came to see me during my shift, just to keep me company and pick up a soda or a snack. One night at about 1:30 am, just as my SO arrived, I got hit with one of those inexplicable mini-rushes. Several customers came in, one right after the other. My SO moved to the back of the store to stay out of the way while I was serving them.
The last customer was a middle-aged man, a semi-regular who at least knew me by face if not by name, and vice versa. He was slow during his checkout and frequently looked over his shoulder at my SO, but he didn’t say anything. Finally, he walked out, slowly.
Once he was clear of the door, my SO came back up front, moving quickly out of habit more than anything else. (Some people just don’t move slowly, and my SO is one of them.) Only halfway across the parking lot, my customer stopped, turned around, and started to speed-walk back to the store. He only stopped and actually entered his car to leave when I came around the counter to give my SO a hug.
It was then that I realized what was happening. He was concerned for my safety and thought that this man (as he thought) might be a danger to me, and he was coming back to make sure I was okay!
One thing is true about rural folk: they tend to look out for one another. I never worried about being alone all night, because I knew that my customers (as well as the local sheriff’s deputies) would always look out for me. There’s a lot I don’t miss about that job, but it was always heartwarming to see how much people could care.
