It takes time to be nice. Driving around, doing errands, I made a discovery. To make it to each place before closing, I knew my start time now included rush-hour traffic. First the bank, with two short lines for drive-through business. Thankful. The clerk’s voice sounded pleasant, but my answers came out flat. Bill asked me what’s next. We headed to Target and CVS with a green light for a turn onto Emerson. A car leaving a store on my right wanted into the traffic, but I hurried on to get the next green light.
My strategy worked as I found the boxed cake mix before I went to the pharmacy. She would ring up the grocery item with the prescription. But we had to wait as she had a casual chat with a customer ahead of us. No transaction, only visiting. That purchase made, we left for our next stop, dreading traffic on Southport Road. Not as bad as expected, but I drove a few miles above the speed limit.
We arrived at the Post Office ten minutes before six p.m. No cars in the parking lot, quite unusual for Wanamaker. So I got out to check the sign for open hours and the door. They didn’t close until 6:30 p.m. Why all the rush? My business there took only a few minutes, but I missed my usual clerk. The one who served me was congenial and efficient, and she did not insist I mail one package with a question about the zip code. I said I’d check on it and return another time.
With all but one of my errands accomplished, we stopped at the Franklin CVS to buy a few items with coupons. When we returned home, Bill asked for supper. With some reluctance, I decided to return to Franklin St. to order Subway. The server had a bit of trouble with my order at first, and I blamed it on his nationality, not on my faulty instructions. Bill liked being able to eat in their diner.
Sitting at our table, I mentally rehearsed our trip. Opportunities awaited me at every turn, but I chose to stick to my rushed schedule. Will I remember next time that it takes time to be nice?