I went to the grocery store this afternoon to pick up some things before I leave for the weekend (peanut butter, tortillas, beer—didn’t want to leave Boyfriend with an empty fridge). It’s one of those habits I’ve picked up somewhere along the way, like cleaning the apartment from top to bottom before a trip, and maybe it leans a little too close to “mothering.” After all, he’s perfectly capable of walking across the street and buying his own peanut butter, tortillas, and beer. But what’s done is done.
Anyway, I was standing in my favorite cashier’s check out line. He’s an older, shorter gentleman with a white, wild-west handlebar mustache, and a great attitude. He greets every customer with a “Welcome to Vons,” and always reminds me to enter my reward number and asks if I need any help, even when I’m at the self-service stations. He’s the best grocer ever.
In typical fashion, he tells the man in front of me that someone left their change in the automatic machine, and if he’d like it he can take it (I guess the Vons employees can’t put it back in the till?). For some insane reason, the guy shakes his head! This blows my mind! That means that at least two people in a row didn’t want the change!
The guy leaves and it’s my turn. We chat about his Thanksgiving plans, and I’m glad to hear he’ll be home and some guests will be coming over. I hate to think of my favorite cashier working on Thanksgiving instead of being home with his family. He sends me off with a smile, and I grab the change on my way out. This was no paltry couple of pennies. There was sixty-two cents there! That may not seem like a lot of money, but it was free money. It wasn’t on the ground, it wasn’t just a penny in the parking lot. It might not buy a soda, but it would pay for parking downtown. It was more than I would pass on.