Today I did one of the nastiest things one can do to a cashier at Sears.
I hauled in a big box full of returns from a Lands' End order.
As the diligent Kevin of Sears toiled to cross the appropriate items -- and only the appropriate items -- off the appropriate receipts (it was one order but three receipts; I wish I knew why), the register came under the disapprobatory surveillance of a 60-something blonde lady in a calico vest and a hurry.
She looked with great disgust upon my box and upon Kevin, toiling away with his Sharpie.
"How long is this going to take? Half an hour?" she demanded, just as we'd whittled the stack down to three items.
"I'm not sure," answered Kevin.
"Well!? Half an hour? Five minutes? How long do you think?"
"I'm not sure, but I think five minutes."
She left, prompting Kevin to comment, with an air of moral triumph, "If people can't be patient they can just go to some other register!"
You go, Kevin.
Anyhow, all that to say that I have been reflecting on sour attitudes.
The attitude I choose to display has the potential to brighten the path of somebody I've never seen before and never will see again. Or to ruin that person's day.
And someday, if I put my bad attitude out for public display, some loser with the nerve to hold up a Sears checkout line for half an hour may blog about it.
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