Chicken Salad and Kindness

 

Anyone who lives in St. Louis knows, without a doubt, that Straub's Fine Grocers makes the best chicken salad.  I will go out on a limb and say that if one does not live here, it is almost worth the trip just to try it!

For me, it is an approximately once-a month splurge, since, as the name implies, it is a "Fine Grocers", not your run-of-the-mill, every day, grocery store, so its price reflects the adjective.

This decadent delight is served at our weekly Mah Jongg gatherings.  I'm not sure which is the more effective incentive, the game or the chicken salad.  And, yes, it really is that good!

When I entered Staub's this morning, autopilot took over and without even thinking about it, I found myself waiting at the counter while an employee was assisting an older gentleman with his order.  Taking a number that designated my turn, I continued to exercise my patience.

To my right, a very tall, muscular young man, who happened to be black, approached the ticket dispenser and tore off his stub to secure his place in the queue of two - him and me.

We waited.

Holding a sandwich and a drink, he seemed somewhat uptight, fidgety - like he simply needed to "get the show on the road" so that he might return to his job which, judging by his bright orange t-shirt, well-worn pants, and protective work boots, might have been with one of the construction projects nearby.

The lady behind the deli case ambled our way.  Looking at the two of us, she inquired:

"Who was next?"

I turned towards the young man:

"Are you in a hurry?", I offered.

"I just want to grab some sauce for my sandwich."

"Please, go ahead!"

With that, he thanked me and stepped forward to place his request at the counter.

Carrying what I presumed was his lunch, he walked away.

At last it was my turn!  The anticipation for a lunch of Straub's chicken salad had been steadily building.  I requested the appropriately sized container and headed to the shorter of the two check-out lines, right behind the tall young man with the sandwich.  Once the cashier had finished ringing up his items, all that was left on the conveyor belt was my solitary container of the "good stuff".  

I heard him say:

"That, too, please.", as he pointed to my cylinder of chicken salad.

"Oh my goodness!  That is so sweet, but I can't let you pay for it!"

He turned to the woman at the register and told her to ring it up.

She looked from him, to me, and back to him again.

In my mind, it didn't seem like giving him my place in line was equivalent to the $29.38 price tag on the chicken salad.  (You see why it is, indeed, an infrequent purchase!)

I told him how much I appreciated his kindness but I simply couldn't allow him to buy it.

Instead, I said:

"I just need to give you a hug, if that's ok."

His arm went around my shoulder, mine around his waist, as the cashier watched the scene unfold.

He grabbed is package, we wished each other a good rest-of-the-day, and the automatic exit door swallowed his large form.

It was just the cashier and me now, so I felt the need to explain why the young man had wanted to pay for my order.

"Wow!", she said.  "That was so nice of him!"

We stood there for a minute discussing the common thought that played in each of our minds:  wishing that more people in the world could experience a situation like the one she had just witnessed - in which one kindness leads to another, regardless of a person's age, race, religion, or any other demographics that can vary among people. 

We considered how different our world might be if everyone committed to carrying out random acts of kindness rather than random acts of violence.

I left Straub's, chicken salad in hand, thinking that I regretted not asking his name, and also imagining how very proud this mans parents would be of their son.  Somewhere in his upbringing, he had learned to "pay it forward".  For me, the thought and his offer were compensation enough, as his actions let me know how much he had appreciated my gesture at the deli counter, as well as what type of man he was at his core.

It was affirmation of what I have always chosen to believe:  Kindness begets kindness.  One random, caring act can start an entire movement that spreads like fall leaves on a windy day.

My thoughts continuously return to this tall young man, anxiously waiting - perhaps bargaining with the clock to move a bit slower so that he would not be late to his destination.  I can still see the determined look in his eyes when he told both the cashier and me that he wanted to pay for my order.

In lieu of repaying me via monetary means, we had landed upon a much simpler and more meaningful exchange:  that of humanity between two people who may not have crossed paths but for my need to acquire the ultimate chicken salad.

I exited the store, and chose to believe that the young man did as well, with a fuller heart than when we had each entered, with a renewed sense of optimism for the future, and with the genuine desire to continue tipping the dominoes in a direction that spreads kindness from person to person to person....

Now, as far as I am concerned, Straub's chicken salad and kindness will be forever linked in the sweetest way.

© Cre8ive Writes, LLC  2024