RedneckReject
Shooter
I really need to tell this story. I've been thinking about this experience for days and I can't get it out of my head. This past Saturday I was at work. I manage a pizza joint and lately the drivers have been dropping like flies. Most of the employees don't have a car and ride the bus to and from work. This presents a problem for me. If there aren't enough employees to drive, guess who gets to pick up the slack. Yep, yours truly.
So on Saturday afternoon we were really swamped. I was out on a triple delivery run and complaining to myself about how I would so much rather be running my store than out delivering pizzas. I was in a pretty nasty mood about it. On the last delivery of the run I went up to a house, knocked on the door, and was greeted by an older gentleman who was clearly in a bad state. He was well groomed and clean, but I could tell something just wasn't right. He was having trouble trying to sign his credit card slip for the delivery and kept mumbling about how bad his day had been. He found out while trying to give me his signature that my pen was no longer working and he seemed to have a hard time finding a pen in his house. It's not that the house was dirty or cluttered, he just didn't seem to know what to do. He just looked distraught. He signed the paper and handed it to me.
Then he told me that his wife had lost her battle with cancer that morning. I expressed my condolences as he handed me his signed paper and told me to just keep the pen because mine wasn't "worth a crap". He told me that his wife had been ill for quite some time and that he thought he would just stay in that day, which is why he ordered from us. I told him I thought that sometimes hiding away for a little while is the best way to help the healing process along. He smiled at me with teary eyes and said to me "I like you. You're alright". By the time I got back to my car, I was teary eyed. By the time I got to the end of his street I was bawling like a baby.
I eventually got myself together and finished my day with a pretty heavy heart, but I also made sure to keep a mental note of his name and address. After work I stopped at CVS, bought him a card, came home and wrote him a letter with that pen. It sounds silly, but I feel like any act of generosity in the midst of emotional turmoil is a great and selfless thing. Even if it is something as silly as an ink pen. I truly hope this poor man doesn't think I'm some kind of a psycho stalker, but if he does, so be it. That was something I felt I HAD to do. I've never been so touched by something so small and even now every time I even look at that pen I cherish the things I have in my life and I think about how precious life really is. Don't wait for tomorrow to be thankful for what you have today. Tomorrow may not come. And it's crazy that something as silly as an ink pen can remind me of that
So on Saturday afternoon we were really swamped. I was out on a triple delivery run and complaining to myself about how I would so much rather be running my store than out delivering pizzas. I was in a pretty nasty mood about it. On the last delivery of the run I went up to a house, knocked on the door, and was greeted by an older gentleman who was clearly in a bad state. He was well groomed and clean, but I could tell something just wasn't right. He was having trouble trying to sign his credit card slip for the delivery and kept mumbling about how bad his day had been. He found out while trying to give me his signature that my pen was no longer working and he seemed to have a hard time finding a pen in his house. It's not that the house was dirty or cluttered, he just didn't seem to know what to do. He just looked distraught. He signed the paper and handed it to me.
Then he told me that his wife had lost her battle with cancer that morning. I expressed my condolences as he handed me his signed paper and told me to just keep the pen because mine wasn't "worth a crap". He told me that his wife had been ill for quite some time and that he thought he would just stay in that day, which is why he ordered from us. I told him I thought that sometimes hiding away for a little while is the best way to help the healing process along. He smiled at me with teary eyes and said to me "I like you. You're alright". By the time I got back to my car, I was teary eyed. By the time I got to the end of his street I was bawling like a baby.
I eventually got myself together and finished my day with a pretty heavy heart, but I also made sure to keep a mental note of his name and address. After work I stopped at CVS, bought him a card, came home and wrote him a letter with that pen. It sounds silly, but I feel like any act of generosity in the midst of emotional turmoil is a great and selfless thing. Even if it is something as silly as an ink pen. I truly hope this poor man doesn't think I'm some kind of a psycho stalker, but if he does, so be it. That was something I felt I HAD to do. I've never been so touched by something so small and even now every time I even look at that pen I cherish the things I have in my life and I think about how precious life really is. Don't wait for tomorrow to be thankful for what you have today. Tomorrow may not come. And it's crazy that something as silly as an ink pen can remind me of that
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