🔗 Share this article

The scene was a day of rest, and I was in a foul mood, refueling the family car. It was a common fuel stop that also functions as a convenience store, meaning there's a chance of ending up in line people bearing baskets of pricey provisions. This is a dreadful thing to occur when your only desire is to get gasoline and leave. Awful.

My position was fourth in the queue. There was only employee working, a young woman. Something stood out about her. When the faffer at the front of the queue had finally paid for his purchases, his pastry, and a carton of eggs, It seemed to me that I heard the cashier wish him an excellent day. Odd. Maybe it was a mistake, or maybe she did say it and meant it ironically. I pondered if perhaps she was a comrade in the war on delays, sharing my contempt for people who hold up people just getting gas like me.

I moved up, to third in the queue. The next shopper of our line completed her gasoline purchase with notable efficiency. And there it was again: “Have a wonderful day.” In fact, it was “have a wonderful day”. Someone from the US? At this location? She had the accent, and hardly anyone here tells people a wonderful day, or simply a good day. Very rare. You don’t get US citizens visiting this town, certainly not holding jobs in fueling spots or anywhere else.

I was second now. Behind a poor older woman engaged in a protracted effort with her carryall, her food items, her purse and her rewards card. This took an eternity. After she finished, she too got told an excellent day. Clearly an American. I could have confirmed it by saying something hilarious in her direction, to check for that reaction as they gaze at you, stoically, and say with absolute sincerity: “That’s really funny.” However, nothing occurred of a jest to express.

I just had to settle the genuine warmth – or an impersonation of it, which amounts to identical in effect – while she stared me right in the eye, to my very core, and told me a wonderful day. My spirits lifted. Beneficial indeed.