This just happened today and I already love the story.
Yesterday afternoon, I got my car and drove to see an acquaintance at her work. She was working a split shift and said she would bring a couple of empty coffee cans to work for me in the afternoon. (I wanted them for countertop food waste receptacles.) Now, I had been out in the morning and my car was fine. But as soon as I pulled out of my driveway in the afternoon, my check engine light went on. So, on my way home from going for the coffee cans, I stopped at the auto sales and service place behind my house. The guy there told me to bring my car back in the morning and they would squeeze me in.
No problem. I took my car into the shop first thing in the morning. Claude, the owner, took it right away and had me wait for the results. It cost $42.00 to have him figure out the problem with my vehicle, and that was after a $10.00 discount. The estimated cost of repairs: $175 that I do not have and really have no idea how I will find.
The good news is that my malfunctioning sensor is part of the emissions control system and is not critical for the function of my vehicle. In other words, I can wait awhile for the repair to be done. The bad news, which I interjected before Claude even had the chance to utter the words, is that while the sensor is malfunctioning the idiotlight on my dashboard will stay on and I will not know is something else is going wrong in the engine.
Claude looked surprised that I hit the nail on the head with the "bad news" before he even opened his mouth to tell it to me. I just shrugged, gave a little smile and said that I was married to an auto mechanic for 15 years. He nodded, saying something along the lines of, "Oh, so you know what's going on."
"No, I don't," I contradicted. "I know how to tell somebody when something is wrong with my car and have him fix it."
Claude chuckled and a brief conversation ensued in which he casually prodded into the reason I am no longer with my auto mechanic husband. I remember him saying, "Maybe that's why you're not together anymore," after I said something about how when we were first married my car was always taken care of but then after we had been married for a long time I had to do a lot of nagging to get it just looked at.
"No," I contradicted again, finally realizing why our conversation was moving in the direction it was going. "The reason we're not together anymore is that he liked somebody else's wife better than his own."
This sparked a little bit more conversation, during which I made a statement that I have become quite accustomed to including in most conversations that turn to the subject of my estranged husband, "Eh, he'll figure it out someday."
Claude just shook his head and made a comment that I will not repeat, but felt good to hear. Regardless, in addition to needing an auto repair that I cannot afford, the brief interaction left me feeling mildly depressed and lonely for the man I married. I decided to make myself feel better with my favorite cheap lunch. (Keep in mind, the discounted $42.00 it took to hook up my car to the engine analyzer put me in the hole by about 35 bucks, so I didn't really have $5.00 for lunch.)
At the pizza place -- yes, of course it is pizza (didn't you read The Disposable Noble Wife? I eat a lot of pizza/comfort food), I took a menu and seated myself in a booth. When manager Mike came around, as he usually does, he asked what I intended to do this afternoon. I am always doing something. Today, I responded that I needed to work on a webpage and an e-mail advertisement because I'm so broke that it is ridiculous. I also smiled that I was taking myself out to lunch to make myself feel better. Manager Mike gave me a word of encouragement, like he always does, then continued on his rounds. I didn't think anything else about the interaction because it was so normal. I just finished my lunch, put on my coat and waited for my tab.
That is when Kathy, my waitress, came over to put her hand on my table. She stated, "Your tab has been taking care of."
"What? Who paid for it?" I asked, completely surprised and wanting to know who to thank.
Kathy indicated the empty table next to mine, "The lady who was sitting here took care of it." I had no idea who was sitting there. I hadn't really paid attention.
Kathy rummaged in her apron pocket. Pulling out the tablet on which her orders are written, she offered me a name, "Maureen O. Do you know her?"
I do not know anyone named Maureen, but someone named Maureen anonymously bought my lunch today. What a wonderful surprise gift! (Thank you, Maureen, whoever you are.) And that, my friends, is how a complete stranger brightened up my otherwise bleary day.
Yesterday afternoon, I got my car and drove to see an acquaintance at her work. She was working a split shift and said she would bring a couple of empty coffee cans to work for me in the afternoon. (I wanted them for countertop food waste receptacles.) Now, I had been out in the morning and my car was fine. But as soon as I pulled out of my driveway in the afternoon, my check engine light went on. So, on my way home from going for the coffee cans, I stopped at the auto sales and service place behind my house. The guy there told me to bring my car back in the morning and they would squeeze me in.
No problem. I took my car into the shop first thing in the morning. Claude, the owner, took it right away and had me wait for the results. It cost $42.00 to have him figure out the problem with my vehicle, and that was after a $10.00 discount. The estimated cost of repairs: $175 that I do not have and really have no idea how I will find.
The good news is that my malfunctioning sensor is part of the emissions control system and is not critical for the function of my vehicle. In other words, I can wait awhile for the repair to be done. The bad news, which I interjected before Claude even had the chance to utter the words, is that while the sensor is malfunctioning the idiotlight on my dashboard will stay on and I will not know is something else is going wrong in the engine.
Claude looked surprised that I hit the nail on the head with the "bad news" before he even opened his mouth to tell it to me. I just shrugged, gave a little smile and said that I was married to an auto mechanic for 15 years. He nodded, saying something along the lines of, "Oh, so you know what's going on."
"No, I don't," I contradicted. "I know how to tell somebody when something is wrong with my car and have him fix it."
Claude chuckled and a brief conversation ensued in which he casually prodded into the reason I am no longer with my auto mechanic husband. I remember him saying, "Maybe that's why you're not together anymore," after I said something about how when we were first married my car was always taken care of but then after we had been married for a long time I had to do a lot of nagging to get it just looked at.
"No," I contradicted again, finally realizing why our conversation was moving in the direction it was going. "The reason we're not together anymore is that he liked somebody else's wife better than his own."
This sparked a little bit more conversation, during which I made a statement that I have become quite accustomed to including in most conversations that turn to the subject of my estranged husband, "Eh, he'll figure it out someday."
Claude just shook his head and made a comment that I will not repeat, but felt good to hear. Regardless, in addition to needing an auto repair that I cannot afford, the brief interaction left me feeling mildly depressed and lonely for the man I married. I decided to make myself feel better with my favorite cheap lunch. (Keep in mind, the discounted $42.00 it took to hook up my car to the engine analyzer put me in the hole by about 35 bucks, so I didn't really have $5.00 for lunch.)
At the pizza place -- yes, of course it is pizza (didn't you read The Disposable Noble Wife? I eat a lot of pizza/comfort food), I took a menu and seated myself in a booth. When manager Mike came around, as he usually does, he asked what I intended to do this afternoon. I am always doing something. Today, I responded that I needed to work on a webpage and an e-mail advertisement because I'm so broke that it is ridiculous. I also smiled that I was taking myself out to lunch to make myself feel better. Manager Mike gave me a word of encouragement, like he always does, then continued on his rounds. I didn't think anything else about the interaction because it was so normal. I just finished my lunch, put on my coat and waited for my tab.
That is when Kathy, my waitress, came over to put her hand on my table. She stated, "Your tab has been taking care of."
"What? Who paid for it?" I asked, completely surprised and wanting to know who to thank.
Kathy indicated the empty table next to mine, "The lady who was sitting here took care of it." I had no idea who was sitting there. I hadn't really paid attention.
Kathy rummaged in her apron pocket. Pulling out the tablet on which her orders are written, she offered me a name, "Maureen O. Do you know her?"
I do not know anyone named Maureen, but someone named Maureen anonymously bought my lunch today. What a wonderful surprise gift! (Thank you, Maureen, whoever you are.) And that, my friends, is how a complete stranger brightened up my otherwise bleary day.
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