I’ve been on the receiving end of a few not-so-nice strangers lately, one of whom was downright mean. I’m happy to report that one good deed has washed away my bad feelings toward humanity.
I was lugging a moderately heavy box through the parking garage after work one day this week. It was an awkward size, narrow and nearly my height, but I thought I was handling it pretty well.
I saw a construction worker sprint toward me (the parking garage is new and in progress), but it didn’t occur to me that I was getting help until he had taken the box out of my hands.
I am almost always suspicious of helpful people—which I blame on years in the city, though it, um, might be a natural facet of my personality—and responded cautiously. Did he want something? Did he have x-ray vision and know my package contained something expensive?
But no, he just wanted to be nice, and not even because I looked injured (my gait has returned to normal). He chatted, mentioned he once worked for the British foreign service, dropped the box in the trunk of my car, and listened to my profuse thanks.
So I’ll say it again. Thank you, polite British construction worker. You made my day.