the red-headed angel

My day at work was nearing to an end. Five o'clock was just minutes away... then freedom! All day, it had been the same thing: "You all set? Would you like the receipt with you or in the bag? Just so you know, square cards take 12 cents extra postage to send... Cash. Credit card. Yes, we take debit. You can make the check out to 'Oblation, O-B-L-A...' Thanks for coming in, have a great day."

You get the idea. Saturdays are rather busy, and this Saturday was exceptionally busy. People come in herds, ask questions, make purchases, and are gone. Sometimes I don't even have time to look them in the face; it's all about the sales screen, the receipts, the barcodes, the signatures. Customers are just that-- customers. And to them, you're just a salesgirl.

Yesterday, as I was saying, my workday was nearing its end. I was behind the cash register, probably watching the clock. Just then a kid come up to the register. He had fiery red hair, and if I had seen him from a distance, I would have guessed his age to be 12, 13? But he approached me with such a rare confidence and boldness, and a courtesy far beyond his estimated years.

"Do you have like, cards? Blank cards? In packs of 3, or... I dunno, maybe 5."

I didn't really understand his question, so I tried to clarify. I was intrigued by this young fellow. I decided to show him our blank stock.

"Perfect!" He said, and grabbed three green folded cards and matching envelopes.

We made our way back to the register, where I began to ring up his purchase.

"So," I asked curiously, "are you making cards or something?"

"Well these are going to be Christmas cards for my dad, mom and sister. I got ALL of my Christmas shopping done today here at Bridgeport Village" (that's the name of the shopping center I work in).

I smiled, very impressed. I remembered those simple days, when I only had my immediate family to shop for. I almost said to him, "enjoy it while it lasts, before you get married and have more shopping to to do," but I stopped myself, fortunately. This sweet kid didn't need advice from a grouchy retail clerk. I got back to scanning barcodes.

"So, what's that gonna be?" he asks, opening his wallet. "I've got a 'fiver' here, but I also have a ten if you need it."

"Well, it's only gonna be $3.40."

"That's all?" He says, and lays down his 'fiver.'

I give him his change and his receipt.

"Say, you wouldn't have a pen I could use, do you?"

"Yeah, go ahead and use any of these pens that you want to." I say, pointing to a jar full of ballpoints. He thanked me and grabbed a pen, and looked for a spot where he could sit and write out his Christmas cards.

"Feel free to have a seat if you like," I say, pointing to table in the 'invitation gallery.'

Before I could finish my sentence, the kid grabbed his wallet from his pocket and pulled out a dollar.

"I'm tipping you! You've been so helpful!" he tells me, assuredly. He hands me his dollar, waiting for me to accept.

By this time, I am quite tickled, and I tried not to smile too broadly. I politely declined, and when he demanded why, I tried to explain to him that I couldn't accept tips. But I thanked him warmly, just the same. He put his dollar back in his wallet, and walked off to write his Christmas cards.

My co-worker Elaine overheard the amusing dialogue, and looked over at me and we had a good giggle. Five o'clock had finally arrived, and I gathered my belongings from the day and clocked out. As I left, I was tempted to say good-bye to the red-head, but I could see that he was hard at work on writing his Christmas cards, so I let him be.

Later that night, I was leaning on Job's shoulder and complaining about how difficult life has been lately; issues relating mainly to my low-self esteem, work exhaustion and my growing waistline woes. I was venting about the customers at work, and how they can be so demanding, insensitive and overwhelming at times. But then that red-headed kid came to mind, and I started to smile and cry at same time. Then I started to cry a little harder. Nobody had ever tried to tip me, but this kid's $1 offering was more of a compliment than a $100 tip. I cried because this kid actually made my day. He put a smile on my face and made me feel special and appreciated. For all I know, he could have been my guardian angel. I wouldn't be surprised if he was... If not, he was definetely a blessing from God.