You know my stance on the “masses.” I think they’re sheep. I think they’re asleep at the wheel, driving the whole goddamn country off a cliff while arguing about pronouns. I avoid eye contact. I keep my head down. I treat the grocery store like a combat zone—get in, get the supplies, get out before the stupidity rubs off.
But yesterday, the armor cracked.
I was in line at Fry’s. The one on Grant. A miserable, fluorescent-lit purgatory. The guy in front of me was arguing about a coupon for 50 cents off cat litter. The lady behind me was coughing without covering her mouth. It was the usual zoo.
And then I got to the register.
The cashier. A woman. Maybe 60. Tired eyes. Bad feet. You could see the years of standing on that rubber mat etched into her face. She scanned my bacon. She scanned my eggs.
And then, she stopped. She looked at my single bottle of wine. And she looked at me.
She didn’t give me the “Have a nice day” robot speech. She didn’t ask for my rewards card.
She just looked me in the eye, gave me a small, tired, real smile, and said, “You look like you’ve had a long week, honey. I hope this helps.”
It wasn’t a pickup line. It wasn’t customer service. It was… recognition.
She saw the exhaustion. She saw the 57 years. She saw the man who is tired of fighting. And for three seconds, she didn’t treat me like a customer or a nuisance or a wallet. She treated me like a human being who was just trying to get to Friday night.
I didn’t say anything profound. I just said, “Thank you, darlin’. It will.”
I walked out to the parking lot, and the Tucson heat hit me, and the smell of exhaust hit me, and the noise of the traffic hit me. But for a minute, I didn’t hate it.
Because in a world that is loud, angry, and completely insane, a tired old woman took three seconds to be kind to a stranger she’ll never see again.
She didn’t change the world. She didn’t fix the economy. She didn’t solve the “Low-Hanging Fruit” problem.
But she didn’t spit in my food. And today, in this goddamn armpit of a town, that felt like a miracle.
Maybe we aren’t all doomed. Maybe there are still a few humans left in the zoo.
I drank the wine to her.
