my senior year of high school was an extremely hectic1 one, to say the least. if i wasn’t studying and worrying about my grades, i was juggling2 multiple extracurricular activities or attempting to make sense of my plans for college. it seemed as if my life had turned into one crazy cloud of confusion and i was stumbling around blindly, hoping to find some sort of direction.
finally, as senior year began to wind down, i got a part-time job working at the local coffee shop. i had figured that the job would be easy and, for the most part, stress-free. i pictured myself pouring the best gourmet3 coffees, * delicious doughnuts, and becoming close friends with the regular customers.
what i hadn’t counted on were the people with enormous orders who chose to use the drive-thru window, or the women who felt that the coffee was much too creamy, or the men who wanted their iced coffees remade again and again until they reached a certain l*l of perfection. there were moments when i was exasperated4 with the human race as a whole, simply because i couldn’t seem to please anyone. there was always too much sugar, too little ice, and not enough skim milk. n*rtheless, i kept at it.
one miserable5 rainy day, one of my regular customers came in looking depressed6 and defeated. my co-worker and i asked what the problem was and if we could *, but the customer wouldn’t r*al any details. he just said he felt like crawling into bed, pulling the sheets up over his head, and staying there for a few years. i knew exactly how he felt.
before he left, i handed him a bag along with his iced coffee. he looked at me questioningly because he hadn’t ordered anything but the coffee. he opened the bag and saw that i had given him his favorite type of doughnut.
“it’s on me,” i told him. “have a nice day.”
he smiled and thanked me before turning around and heading back out into the rain.
the next day was a horrible one. the rain was still spilling down from the sky in huge buckets and *ryone in my town seemed to be using the drive-thru window because no one wanted to brave the black skies or the thunder and lightning.
i spent my afternoon hanging out the window, handing people their orders and waiting as they slowly counted their pennies. i tried to smile as the customers complained about the weather, but it was difficult to smile as they sat in their temperature-controlled cars with the windows rolled up, while i dealt with huge *lets7 of water hanging from my visor, a shirt that was thoroughly8 soaked around the collar, and an air conditioner that blasted out cold air despite the fact that it was only sixty-s*n degrees outside. on top of that, no one felt like tipping that day. *ry time i looked into our tip jar, with its small amount of pennies, i grew * depressed.
around s*n o’clock that *ning, how*r, my day took a turn for the better. i was in the middle of * another pot of vanilla9 hazelnut decaf when the customer from the day before drove up to the window. but instead of ordering anything, he handed me a single pink rose and a little note. he said that not too many people take the time to care about others and he was glad there were still people like me in the world. i was speechless and very touched; i hadn't thought that i had done anything incredible. after a moment, i came to my senses and thanked him. he told me i was welcome and with a friendly wave he drove away.
i waited until i saw his jeep exit the parking lot, then i ran to the back of the shop and read the note. it read:
__