Salad days

Today was not a great day.

It wasn't a horrible day, nothing went catastrophically wrong, no one was hurt. But there were obstacles and missed calls and worry about deadlines — that kind of thing. When I left work at 8:05, I'd already been looking forward to dinner for hours — Wednesday is salad special day at the place that has my favorite salad, and it's so cheap and so delicious, I was sure it would salvage my grumbly mood. So I called on my way out the door.

"Hi, can I place an order to pick up?"
"Um... I'm sorry, but we close at 8:00 on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays now."
"Ohhhh."
"But — My salad station is still set up."
"Really? A salad is all I want." (Note: I might have said that with a little more desperation than is appropriate.)
"OK, and this is [my real name]?"
Stunned silence. "Um..."
"Oh, sorry, we have Caller ID now, too. What can I get for you?"
"Can you do half a Cobb salad with chicken?"
"Sure, I can do that. That'll be ready in about ten minutes."

And when I arrived there was a perfect salad waiting for me, and cheerful people happy to sell it to me, even after they were closed, even at a greatly reduced price. I left an enormous tip and was on my way, very much cheered up.

Also: That was only the first of two excellent food experiences I had this evening, but the other will wait for another post.

Day 8 of our month of gratitude: I am thankful for great customer service, for people who are willing to go a little out of their way for me, for opportunities to think about how I could do the same for others, customer or not. And for really, really delicious salads. I love salad.