Wednesday, July 15, 2015
“How Can I Help You?”
By Micky Wolf
All it would take was several lengths of cove molding to finish the job.
After a few minutes of online research, my beloved and I were delighted to discover a small-big-box store (seems there is such a thing) about twenty minutes from home that had exactly what we needed—at one third the per linear foot cost of the larger nearby chain retailer we typically use.
We needed two things before we could make our purchase: a) a sunny day to keep the materials dry because the long pieces would extend outside the front passenger window of our vehicle; and b) time to combine this stop with another errand in the same general vicinity.
After placing our order, I did as directed, driving around to the rear entrance of the long warehouse building and pulling in.
“Afternoon. How can I help you?” The voice belonged to a grinning, lanky, young man. A real tall drink of water, as my grandma used to say. He glanced at the sheet of paper.
“Hold on a minute, got that right here.” With that, the cheerful fellow disappeared behind a mountain of wood building materials of every size and description.
“Here’s them two fourteen footers,” he said, popping around a corner, expertly and carefully handing them off to be loaded into the car. I could see him in my rear view mirror. Then poof, he slipped back into the maze, only to reappear a moment later.
“And here’s your six footers. Know they’re longer than the fives you need, but take them. Already cut.”
“Hey, thanks so much,” my beloved said, as he gently slid them in and I reached to pull them alongside the others.
“No problem! Glad to help ya!” He waved, his smile as engaging as the first moment we arrived at his work station.
I can’t say for sure that young man is always as pleasant and considerate every day of every week when he shows up to do his job.
However, there is one thing I am sure of—small purchase and all, his attitude and willingness to treat us well was more than enough to not only make us feel appreciated as customers, but also want to return for future business.
Which makes me wonder. Could the same be said for you and me as servant-Christians?
Offering a smile.
Extending a courtesy.
Giving a little more than expected.
Focusing on the person rather than the size of their problem or concern.
We’ll never know if the young man is a Christian. Correction—we’re not privy to knowing his religious affiliation—if any. And not necessary.
Actions speak louder than words. Always.