Dollar Shop Humanity

It is a cold Saturday evening.  After shopping at a grocery store, I decide to go into the dollar shop next door to see if there is any interesting finds.

The store does not have the tea I like, but I find a coupe of things useful for our home.  I contently go to the register to check out.  In front of me is an Africa lady, probably in her 30s, dressed in workout clothes.  She has a pack of bottled water and another item in her hand.  She is the second one in line.

"One dollar?" The lady turns to me and say.  I am not quite prepared for this, and I don't not know what she means.  Is she asking me the price of my stuff?  Or, her stuff?  But this is a dollar shop.  Of course everything is one dollar.   With what looks like a dollar bill and some change in her hand, she asks me again, "One dollar?"  "Huh?  What do you mean?"  I was puzzled.

It is now her turn to pay, but she has abandoned her stuff and walked away.  She is leaving the store!  That is when I realize: "Oh, she is asking me if I can spare a dollar for her!!!"

I quickly holler her to come back, "You need a dollar?  Yeah, I have it!"  I ask if she needs more help, but the clerk says she has enough.  The lady says thank you and leaves quickly.

It is now my turn at the register.  "I am sorry for being so slow.  I could not understand her at first." I apologize to the clerk.  The clerk says the lady almost cried.  "I was ready to help her, but I also had a hard time understanding what she was saying," say the African man behind me.  "Oh, me, too.  Had I known she needed a dollar, I would have given it to her," the woman behind the African man chimes in.

For a moment, the three of us exchange a look and a smile.  I thought people in line were minding their own business.  I did not expect everybody to be quietly paying attention to others and was ready to lend a helping hand.

"Have a good evening!  Take good care.  Stay warm." My fellow shoppers wave at me as I step out of the store.

Maybe it is the spirit of the season.  If we so choose, perhaps the season can just become the seasons . . .




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