I checked the pocket of my capri pants at least four more times before I finally broke down and told the clerk I absolutely, positively could not find my debit card. My groceries, which had been whizzing by me on the conveyer belt, were now at a standstill.
The kind cashier smiled at me as I assured her I had cash out in my vehicle, and I went out to the parking lot quickly, beckoning to Dale to come to my rescue. Barney, his gorgeous Doodle head thrust out of the window, barked joyously as I opened the truck door and explained my situation.
“I can’t find the debit card. I need cash,” I said.
Dale looked bewildered. “What do you mean,” he asked. “You lost the debit card? How in the blazes did you do that? You have to find that card, Belinda.”
I was losing my cool fast. “Just hand over the cash,” I instructed. “I don’t have time to bicker with you.”
I held out my hand and gave him the “look.” He didn’t hesitate to give me what cash he had and I went back into the store as quickly as my shaky legs would allow and paid for my items.
I parked the groceries and continued to search for the elusive card. A dear friend who happened to be shopping as well, pitched in on the aisle to aisle hunt but to no avail.
I was just about in tears when that same sweet- spirited cashier came up to me and handed me the card. She had found it lying just beneath the plastic bag holder, across from the cash register.
“Thank you a million times over,” I said. I hugged her, sought out the manager, and told him that he needed to give that young lady a raise pronto!
With the groceries safely loaded into the back of the truck, we decided a Subway sandwich was in order, so off we went! Dale handed me the card once again, with a warning. “For God’s sakes, don’t lose it,” he lectured.
I gave him the “look” once again and stomped my pink and purple Skecher sneakers into the Subway restaurant. A gentleman stepped out of his vehicle and walked behind me, reaching beyond me to open the door. I thanked him and went to the counter to place my order.
As his sandwich was made rather quickly, he politely stepped around me, paid for his purchase and left. I slid over to the cash register, pulled out the debit card and handed it over for payment. The young lady behind the counter quickly handed the card right back to me.
“The gentleman ahead of you paid for your sandwiches,” she said.
“What? Are you kidding?” I asked.
She shook her head and laughed. “Nope,” she said. “You are all paid up.”
I left the restaurant slowly, scanning the parking lot for the gentleman, but he was nowhere in sight. When I got back into the truck, I handed the sandwiches to Dale and told him what had just happened.
I had little to say on the way home, but my mind was a six lane highway. Losing the debit card was a tiny inconvenience with a positive ending, but the whole experience had launched me into a foul mood, and the last thing I expected on such a sour day was to experience a Pay-It-Forward moment. If the gentleman had handed me a million dollars, the impact of his generosity would have been the same.
Unexpected kindness in a world infected with hatred, racism, rumors of war, hunger, homelessness, drug addiction, scandalous politics, and crime, is a gift that knows no value. It is now my turn to Pay-It-Forward, and I pray I can do it justice.
Belinda Wilcox Ouellette lives in Connor with her husband, Dale, and their Goldendoodle, Barney Rubble. You may contact Belinda online at dbwouellette@maine.rr.com.
