Thank You for What You Do

October 17, 2018

Just after dawn the Trucker guided his Penske rental (which seems to be designed to make a skilled professional appear an inconsiderate ignoramus) into the Little America Truckstop, Wyoming. He’d brought the Passenger here before, but this time it was not for the well known 75 cent ice cream cone.

This time, it was breakfast. But first a few repairs were in order.

The Passenger entered the empty restroom, and began brushing night time's effect out of her hair. Yes, one doesn’t bother with such things in the truck unless there is no other option. A quick finger comb, and a reminder to self not to obsess about what other people think, has to do when entering a truckstop early in the morning. Time is of the essence, and staff are well accustomed to apparitions climbing out of trucks at all hours.

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Shortly, a young woman, gloved and bearing paper supplies, entered. She went about her duties quietly and efficiently, sober faced and not acknowledging my presence. We worked in silence for a minute, I on hair, she on restocking, then catching her eye in the mirror, I said, “Thank you for what you do!”

Her face transformed - became softer, more alive. “Thank you!” she responded. That was all. She left, and returned with still more supplies. Then I heard it. She was singing quietly, and a peek in the mirror showed a smile on her lips.

For her, as for all of us, a little recognition goes a long way.

We chatted, then, I asking which stall to use that would least interrupt her routine, she giving me tips on managing the electric “eye” on the faucets. We laughed together at the indignity of technology that forces one to stand, hands soaped, waving at an unsympathetic sensor which may or may not condescend to offer water.

We parted then, her to mop the floor, and I to join the Trucker, who stood waiting at the service window with two orders of eggs and toast. I wished her blessings on her day, and she safe travels on mine.

This is life on the road. Momentary connections, but no opportunity for lasting relationships.

But I will always remember how those seven ordinary words changed her face, and brought a song to her lips.