I was the victim of a random act of kindness – again.
I had just placed an order for four nuggets and fries (yes, it was my night to cook for my daughter), when the girl opened the drive-thru window and announced, “Your meal is taken care of. That car ahead paid for it.”
I didn’t recognize the car. A mere stranger had picked up the tab. How random. How kind. How exciting. Happily, I put three dollar bills back into my wallet.
The kind driver stuck her head out the window, looked back at me, smiled, and waved. I recognized her. Paige, an acquaintance.
I didn’t recall seeing any social media references about National Pay It Forward Day, so double kudos to Paige for her truly genuine gesture of goodwill.
As a past initiator of random acts of kindness at restaurants, I haven’t had much success. For example, I once bought subs for two soldiers behind me in line at Subway. But before I could pay, two more soldiers arrived so I felt obligated to treat them as well. I assumed since the subs were to be paid by me, the soldiers would order the six-inch variety. Instead they went for the more expensive 12-inchers. I quickly paid with plastic and fled before the rest of the platoon arrived.
And then there was last summer while lost in Illinois that I sought directions from four old guys drinking coffee at a McDonald’s. In return, I dropped a 10-dollar bill on their table, telling them their next round of coffee was on me. They looked shocked. It felt good to do this, so much so I had to keep from skipping too noticeably to my car. But before I could open my door, one of the men, a bit winded, caught up with me. He held out the $10 and said, “You don’t owe us anything.”
I waved it away. “I want you to have it,” I said.
He was insistent, pushing the bill at me. “We don’t want your money, son.”
The selfish old coot was trying to rob me of my moment, reverse my random act of kindness so he could feel good about himself.
“No, I appreciated your help,” I said, pushing it back.
“That is what neighbors are for,” he said, pushing it back.
If we were neighbors, I wouldn’t have needed to ask you for directions, I wanted to say.
To passersby, it might have seemed like we were in a heated argument. It was almost feeling that way. Finally, I took the $10 back before we erupted into a random act of fisticuffs. I’m pretty sure I could’ve taken him, but I did worry about his three buddies staring at us through the glass, for two were armed with walkers.
I returned Paige’s wave as the drive-thru girl handed me a bag of free nuggets and fries. It was truly a golden day at the golden arches. All seemed right with the world. That is, until I learned that her random act of kindness was merely momentary.
You see, I found myself caught in the proverbial pay-it-forward trap. Suddenly, I was in the throes of moral dilemma, like when you win a raffle drawing at a fundraiser and feel pressure to forgo the prize and give it to that night’s charity.
“I guess I’m obligated to pay it forward – or in this case, pay it backward,” I said to the drive-thru girl.
I was hoping she might tell me that there was no obligation to replicate her previous customer’s kindness, adding that she sees people break the chain of charity often. Instead, she glared at me from her window perch, her forehead flexing its furl.
“OK. OK. I’ll pay for the car behind me,” I said.
Unfortunately, I said this before looking in the rearview mirror. Behind me was a minivan with a lot of interior movement going on, flashes of too many elbows and hungry faces, the woman in the driver’s seat looking half crazed in her mini-van hell, wishing that maybe birth control had been utilized at least every other time she dropped her pants.
“You owe 23 (something or another),” the drive-thru girl said.
Just my luck. For about 10 seconds, I was ahead moneywise. But not anymore. My original three dollar bills were useless. We were in the double digits now, which meant a random swipe of the debit card.
Gee, thanks, Paige.
I messaged Paige later to tell her how her random act of kindness had backfired in my face. She seemed amused. She then offered the following advice: Before going forward with a random act of kindness, first find out the meal’s cost.
In other words, you have the option of being kind – but not that kind.
Sure, she tells me this $23 later.
Someday, I hope to beat Paige to the drive-thru – and pay her back. I’ll make sure to show up with a mini-van-sized hunger.
Contact: scottsaalman@gmail.com. Buy Scott’s books on Amazon.