They say you’re not supposed to have favorite children. I don’t have children, so instead, I have favorite customers.
All of my favorite customers are kind, approachable humans. I have my one Harvard Law School student who I’m convinced is actually a descendant of the Dalai Lama or something because I think she just breathes selflessness and the color aqua.
Another favorite customer always comes in with her boyfriend (and they actually seem like they like each other, which is rare for the dating realm) and offered to drive my roommate and I to Taco Bell. Let me repeat, TACO BELL. She is clearly a saint. Pope Francis and I are planning her canonization ceremony. If you are trying to get me closer to a Gordita Crunch, I am trying to let the world know of your aura.
Favorite customers are the gifts that keep on giving; there is never a dull moment. About a month ago, I waited on a couple that always comes in. They ordered, I tallied everything up, then this gem of a woman, pregnant at the time, casually stated, “I actually think I may or may not be in labor right now.”
To which I said, “……………”
Then she giggled.
Granted, there’s a new addition to this planet birthed every eight seconds, according to the U.S. Census Bureau (WOW). I suppose I could have Yahoo answered, “What to do in the event of her giving birth adjacent to our water cooler,” but I’m really not that good on my feet. Anyway, this woman is so fly that she just laughed again and then strolled out of the store. Three or four days later, she came back with a smile AND A BABY. Baby Theo is the cutest! Cheers to his adorable little existence and his hilarious, immensely calm mother. Also, apparently our yogurt prompts childbirth. An official U.S. Food and Drug Administration alert will be released sometime real soon.
This weekend, while I rang up a man’s order, he opened his wallet and had the cutest picture of a baby. He then went on to tell me that the picture was of his granddaughter, and he described her as “miraculous” (making me all types of emotional). The man’s wife then took my hand and said, “One day, you’ll have a beautiful granddaughter, too!” Thanks Ma’am. Now I have to go cry for 17 years and go donate blood or something to repay the universe for my interaction with your perfect self. I really did almost start crying. They just don’t make adorable humans like those two customers anymore.
Really, all you have to do to be inducted into my really important, coveted hall of fame is to be nice. You don’t have to tell me I’m pretty (I have my mom for that) or tip me or anything. Just acknowledging I exist is solid.
Apparently being nice to people also can make you hate life less, too. In a June 2013 interview with the Huffington Post, Sonja Lyubomirsky, a psychology professor at the University of California, Riverside, said, “When you are kind to others, you feel good as a person—more moral, optimistic and positive.”
A March 2004 Psychology Today article entitled “The Art of the Compliment” expresses a similar sentiment.
“If given right, they create so much positive energy that they make things happen almost as if by magic,” the article states.
That’s like a hug to my cold, frosty heart.
I do not need to be your grandmother to tell you that being kind or complimenting someone is not always easy. My poor mother (I’m shockingly not a day at the beach to have as a daughter), my professors, the whole world—essentially knows I loveto complain about my job.
It is abundantly simple to dismiss someone as rude, mean or Satan. I have done that far too many times, and at the end of the day, it kind of makes me feel like a judgmental, gross kid. So now, I’m trying this new thing where if I encounter someone who enrages me, I try to compliment him or her on a kind thing that he or she is doing or like, his or her scarf. It usually helps the situation, which hopefully makes us want to kill each other a little bit less.
