I was at The Food Depot on Dupont earlier in the day picking up a few items: garlic bread, Kleenex and saran wrap. For whatever reason, these are the things that I decided I needed on a Thursday afternoon.
I had a lot on my mind and was kind of distracted when I was paying the cashier, an older woman from Poland. I put my money down on the conveyor belt and then stared off at the horizon, waiting. A moment passed before she spoke to me, stating primly, “ Would you please pass the money to me.”
I looked down and noticed that the cash was about a foot away from her. It was certainly within her reach, but she would have had to stretch out for it a little bit, and today, for whatever reason, she decided she was no longer going to do that. There was absolutely no reason the customer couldn’t exhibit enough consideration to hand her the money, why should she have to stretch out all the time? Her back was sore, and the arthritis was acting up in her hand, and you know, the cold air rushing in from the door opening and closing all the time, wasn’t doing her back any favours either. She’s sixty, she’s lived a life, and was damn sick and tired of stretching out for other people’s money, and so, with a stiff back and polite, but firm manner, she drew her line in the sand.
“Would you please pass the money to me.”