Back story: Several months ago I was in a small kiosk-type food area in a business. I was in line behind a woman and her young son, who was planning on purchasing a soda and a bag of chips. Mom was expecting to pay cash, not knowing that the kiosk only accepted debit/credit, which she did not have. She told her son, “we can’t get it, put it back”. Nobody else was in the area except me. I stood there like an ass, wondering if I should help her out; 3 or 4 dollars that I would not miss in the slightest. As I was pondering, frozen in indecision, they left. Now it was too late. Here’s the best part: this was a week before Christmas. My inaction disturbs me still. I think about it at least once a week.
But now I’ve had two days in a row where I’ve done good to strangers, and I have told nobody IRL my stories:
Yesterday I was walking along a sidewalk. A woman was pushing a very elderly man in a wheelchair next to me. The wheels lodged into a metal grate on the street, stopping the wheelchair on a dime. The man, of course, lurched forward, stumbling. I lunged ahead and hooked my arm under his armpit, catching him and saving him from face-planting onto the concrete.
Today I was in line at a convenience store. A 20-something woman with a toddler serpentining through her legs was ahead of me, trying to buy a money order. She laid out all her cash, $570-something dollars, but did not account for the cost of the actual money order. The clerk suggested she buy one for a few dollars cheaper, but she said she couldn’t, she needed the full amount to make her rent payment. Her appearance conveyed that she was not exactly rolling in dough. The line behind her was growing, she was getting very anxious, trying to decide what to do. This time I did not freeze. The woman behind me and I both handed her a few dollars without hesitating. She immediately broke down and wept, thanking us through tears.
You know how you get angry and frustrated and just need to vent? You just want to tell your story without any real need for anything other than someone to listen? This is sorta like that. I am posting this just because I want to vent. But it is a positive vent this time.
I’ve ponied up the missing amount in a supermarket checkout line for the woman ahead of me; for me it was a trifling sum, for her it was far from trifling. Both she and the checker kept thanking me profusely, which embarrassed the heck out of me – such a small (for me) thing to do! But doing that sort of thing repays itself to you in the happiness you create – for you as much as the recipient.
The older I get, the easier and more rewarding it becomes to, yes, dammit, just be nice.
This, for me, is the only bad thing about doing nice things for strangers. Not enough to stop me doing it, but I would be happy with one, and only one, thank you (you are allowed to add “so much” and “have a nice day” or the like).
well then, may I suggest calling yourself “the poster formerly called Mean Mr. Mustard”
Now it’s my turn:
Last week, while walking to the train station, I saw a blind man with a white cane walking very quickly down the sidewalk(outpacing me). He passed me by and continued walking quickly straight ahead —where there was a sign post directly in his path about 25 yards ahead.
I ran forward to catch up to him, and called out “excuse me, but…”.
And before I could continue he said:
“oh–you wanted to warn me about that pole up ahead? Yeah, I know it’s there, because I walk this route every day to work.But thanks anyway”.
So I didn’t get to be a hero.
But I met one!
A guy who lives his life with a handicap I couldn’t handle.
And who can walk faster than I go jogging.
Mean Mr. Mustard, with reference to the third part of your OP (the lady with just the amount of the money order) i have just one thing to say to you:
Thank you, sir. Being another poor person, I’ve found myself in similar situations as that young woman; they tend to be not only disappointing and frightening, but *intensely embarrassing *as well, especially when they befall one out in public. You did a swell turn by that lady, and I am vicariously grateful to you, like it had been me almost,
