“The happiness of life is made up of minute fractions - the little, soon-forgotten charities of a kiss or smile, a kind look, a heart-felt compliment, and the countless infinitesimals of pleasurable and genial feeling” -Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Warning: weak stomached people should just stop right here. Okay? Really.
You've been warned.
So... It started innocently enough: a trip to the bank.
We stood in line, my DD and I. The teller said, "May I help you?" and we moved to the window. Then DD tugged on my shirt and said, "Do they have a bathroom?" and made a face that I recognized far too well.
I said, "Do you feel like you need to throw up?"
Dear God in heaven.
I turned to the teller. "Do you have a bathroom? She needs to throw up."
The woman says, "I'll need to escort her." and scrambles for her keys.
Bleh. DD presses a hand over her mouth as if that will hold it in. She grabs my hand to help.
Nothing in the world would have helped. She spewed gallons all over herself, the floor, it splashed on the walls, on me, my shoes, my (now broken in but formerly BRAND NEW) shirt... heave. Breath. Heave again. Breath. Heave some more. Will it ever stop? And will she ever stop holding my hand under the flow??
No, I don't have a weak stomach at all, but that tested it something fierce.
The teller says she has the door to the bathroom open. Oh. Well. Thanks.
The worst part? DD had STRAWBERRIES for breakfast. Yeah. You get the picture, right?
The best part? People are very kind.
When I came out of the bathroom, one of the men in line was on his knees helping a teller clean up the mess (I felt horrible -- I should have been the one to clean it, but by the time I was done with the DD and myself, they were almost finished). One of the ladies in line said she had a shirt in her car and I could have it if I needed one. The tellers were terribly sweet and understanding.
I took DD home and put her in bed. Gram (my mom) watched her while I finished my errands. I picked up a potted chrysanthemum from the store (it was gorgeous with these neat curly petals and white with bright pink tips -- I really wanted to keep it for myself, but I resisted the temptation) and brought it to the bank. They were surprised to see me again and really grateful that I'd brought the plant.
And that made me think: wouldn't anyone have done something for these wonderful ladies who cleaned up my DD's bright pink vomit? Wouldn't you?
DH suggested that I also send a thank you card to the manager to bring the tellers service-above-the-call-of-duty to her attention. I will. It's true, isn't it, that people are quick to complain but so very slow to commend good behavior?
So, I challenge all of you: look for good behavior, great service, a nice smile, a helpful employee and then TELL THEIR MANAGER. It'll really make their day.
So... my QOTD has to be this: have you ever had anything happen in public that utterly mortified you? C'mon, share it and make me feel better. You're among friends.
Have a fantastic day!