Living the Dream

Recently I was heading home after being out and about for several hours.  I still had two or three more errands to run but needed to use the bathroom, so I swung into a Shell gas station – just a normal one with a mini-mart, not one of those huge establishments that rivals a Walmart. 

I walk in and there was no one behind the counter, but behind the counter was a door that said both, “Employees Only” and “Restrooms.”  Oh no.  Are they not going to let me use the restroom?  Is it truly for employees only?  Oh Lord, please let them let me use the bathroom! So a man comes out and I ask him if I could please use the restroom.  He is gracious and kind and said, “Of course, yes, please do.  You are welcome to! It’s right through here!” Excellent. (Perhaps he sensed my increasing distress.) I proceed through a small storage room to the restroom, which was perfectly clean and comfortable and I do my business.

Upon exiting, he says, “Ah, good.  Are you feeling better?” At this my mind starts spinning in two directions.  The first is:  is this stranger, a man, really inquiring about the success and comfort of my toileting? I confess I’m a little uncomfortable with this. But then my second thought is: well, he is clearly sincere and not at all creepy.  He is obviously an immigrant, and perhaps in his home country this is a perfectly polite line of conversation.  Perhaps everyone inquires about these things and it’s completely normal.  Who am I to judge? And, in fact, I felt like he truly cared about my well-being.  He was perfectly polite and friendly, and a polite inquiry requires a polite answer, so I said, “Yes, much better, thank you very much.”

My head was still spinning a bit as I went to grab some m&m’s to compensate him for his bathroom generosity, and I go up to pay.  Then he says, “Ah, yes.  Whenever a woman asks to use the bathroom, I always let her.  Women are lovely. Women are always welcome.  But men?  No.  Absolutely not!  Never.  But women? Always yes!” So now my mind is now spinning in a third direction wondering: Why not?  Are men smellier?  Are they untidy?  Does he fear they will steal the paper towels? Who knows.  But he’s being friendly and honest, so I’m smiling and nodding agreeably as he talks.  At which point he says, “You have a beautiful smile. You should always smile.” (Now I know there is the thing where women are always expected to smile no matter what, while it’s perfectly acceptable for men to be mean or grouchy, but I didn’t feel that way about this interaction.  It was a genuine and thoughtful compliment.) So I again thanked him and was on my way with my m&m’s.

Before I even got to my car I was thinking:  This man is wonderful. I like him. He is living the dream. He is obviously from another country and is here in the land of opportunity. He is a small business owner and (presumably) providing for his family. He is showing real concern for his customers and running a good business.  He is friendly and complimentary.  He is obviously doing everything he can to be the best human and best American he can possibly be.  I like this man.  I admire this man.  He is exactly the kind of person we want to come to this country. (I love immigrants - they are great.) I want to be friends with this man.  He is a good man.

And this is why I love this country.  Welcome to America!

I pass by this gas station at least four times a week, and now I always think of him as I drive by and it makes me happy.