I have this gas station I frequent on my way to work and it's not the most convenient stop. On my way to work, it's on the left hand side before a big intersection. So when I'm leaving the gas station, I have to cross four lanes of traffic and turn immediately right, if that makes sense.
The store manager, Alfredo, is really nice.
For some reason, it always helps me to go in there before work to go through our little ritual-of-words that includes things like "Good morning," "It sure is going to be cold today," or "How are you?" Nothing special. Sometimes he throws in a "That color is really pretty on you" or as I'm leaving, he cautions me to be careful, that snow is coming, and to stay warm.
This morning, I made my pit stop. As he was ringing up my coffee, he asked me if I had all the Christmas shopping done for the kids.
"I'm almost done with the shopping," I replied, toying with the idea to just let him believe I have kids or tell him the truth.
I went with the truth.
"I don't have kids."
"That's a shame," he said. "Someone pretty like you with no kids."
He handed me my change.
"You are pretty," he added.
"Thank you," I said. And told him to have a good day.
He told me to expect a snow storm and to stay warm.
On one hand, I wanted to say thanks for rubbing in the fact that I don't have kids.
But on the other hand, the bigger hand, I couldn't. Mostly because he was right and on most days, I agree with him.
His comment this morning just capped off the week I've been having, which maybe, if I get around to it, I'll fill you in on.