Make Someone Happy

Yesterday, in the middle of a hot muggy afternoon of running around Los Angeles—first bout of physical therapy, visiting my mother at the nursing home, groceries, etc.—I had to go to Union Station to reload my bus pass. There were three people ahead of me in line. One of them left, as though they’d waited long enough and had to catch a train or something. The guy right in front of me asked something of the woman before him, but when she couldn’t answer he turned to me, inquiring as to where he might buy an Amtrak ticket to Oceanside. Simple enough to give him directions, and he looked a lot less stressed out as he headed off.
A couple of minutes later I arrived at the empty middle window, where through the security glass I could see the lady sitting there, looking a bit harried and in need of a break. Starting out businesslike, I placed my TAP card and credit card in the tiny slot while asking for $50 of stored credit. After taking them and placing them on their spots, she turned back to ask me for ID. . . which I was already holding up with a smile as well as my hand. “I’ve done this before,” I chuckled, making her laugh and say, “I love it when everyone’s prepared!”
By the time I left she was sporting a huge smile and thanked me with a brighter tone than I expected. That made me smile too as I made my way up the escalator and out into the bus bay. . . until I felt the humidity trying to suffocate me like a boa constrictor.



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