I was waiting in line at the gas bar today when a small white car drove in out of nowhere and cut right in front of me. That car was followed by a small red car and suddenly, where I had been first in line for a free pump, I was third. I must have missed the sign that announced it was small-car day at the gas station.
I wish I could say I calmly accepted this new situation but I can’t. I was overcome with fury and you know it was serious because I try to never use the word fury.
Finally, I got my tank filled up and left the station. I drove straight to a fast-food joint to grab a burger and as I sat in my car consuming an above-average tasty lunch, I was still fuming about the gas pump fiends.
But then I remembered something that happened to me a couple of months ago. I was in line at a grocery store checkout and my items had been rung up when I discovered that I had left my debit card in my car. I apologized and the woman was very nice. She suggested I go get the card and come back. I did that and when I made it through the line to her again, she told me my $14 or so in purchases had already been paid for. A young man in line behind me, seeing my panic, offered to pay for my stuff.
I asked the cashier about the guy and was told he had a young boy with him. So out I went into the parking lot to see if I could find my benefactor. I couldn’t. But as I was about to get into my car, another car pulled up beside mine and a young man, with a boy strapped into his seat in the back, got out.
“I heard you were looking for me,” he smiled. “I’m the one who paid your bill.” I thanked him profusely and apologized for not having any cash on me (later I thought I could have run into the ATM in the store and came up with the money) but my young friend, who didn’t look like a billionaire and who had a car older and shakier than mine, said he didn’t want to be paid back. He was just glad to help out.
He more than made up for the two jerks at the gas bar and I am glad I have my memory of him and what he selflessly did to counteract my anger.
I’m afraid I don’t do fury very well.
©2022 Jim Hagarty
