Yesterday my father experienced chest pains while exercising; his cardiologist scheduled him for an angiogram this morning.
We've been through this before. There's nothing easy about it but that's not the focus of this post. Turns out The Man From D.A.D. is fine; we all inhaled and exhaled a deeeeeep cleansing breath, and Sweet Talker's Bar Mitzvah is taking place as scheduled, although my father is prohibited from his customary stab at the Electric Slide.
No, this story is about the kindness of the guy who made my lunch today.
I stopped by Panera Bread to pick up soup and sandwiches for five of us who were waiting, impatient and unraveled, at the hospital. The guy taking my order greeted me in German for no apparent reason; then he began reading my list upside down, mentioning which muffins they didn't have and suggesting alternatives. I complimented his sense of humor and he goofily declared that his goal was my happiness. I replied that I could use some cheering up because my father was heading into heart surgery.
His aspect transformed immediately. All silliness gone, he made sure everything I needed made it into the shopping bag. (Is this the first time I've walked out of Panera with everything I ordered? Quite possibly.) Before handing over the bag he threw in an extra scone just for me, and wished my father the best.
Michael: Thanks. You helped make my day.
