What do we owe each other?

In line at the grocery store, I stood behind an elderly woman purchasing what I imagine were her weekly rations. I do the same thing for myself every other week so I have a good idea what a weeks worth of food for one looks like. She was the kind of old lady that you might aww at the same way you would a young child. Her hair was in a neat gray bob held out of her face with a small barrette. She wore a green and blue plaid blouse with a black cardigan that had decorative gold buttons dangling from the cuffs. I liked her immediately. She had a few reusable bags in her cart which earned her extra points. Whenever I see someone over the age of 65 who’s willing to help the environment, I get a little excited. She carried three quality bags. Two of them were lined with the insulation layer that keeps your cold food cold and the other commemorated 9-11. I decided to snoop the belt a little to see what she was buying—apples and bananas wrapped in plastic produce bags (old habits die hard), a jar of prunes, and among a few other items, a bottle of Kahlua flavored coffee creamer. I caught her eye while we were waiting for the cashier to finish up with the customer in front of both of us. You like your coffee a little boozy? I asked with what I hoped was a playful, non-judgmental smile. She laughed heartily. I do! It helps me face the day! She laughed again. I couldn’t help but join her. I didn’t ask her name but she looked like a Hattie. Hattie handed me an item divider. It was her turn with the cashier now. She picked up each of her items after it had been scanned and placed it into one of the open bags in her cart. She and the cashier made small talk, and I checked out the newest trend in chewing gum (from my assessment, its fruit blends). Then Hattie exclaimed that she had forgotten an item in her cart—a jar of prunes. That’s odd. I stopped her. No, I think you already put those on the belt. I remembered because when I saw them I was reminded that death comes for us all. I didn’t say that part out loud. The cashier reached for the jar and I asked her to please stop to check if she rang them up already. She paused and tapped her screen a few times. She had already added them. They both thanked me and then finished the transaction. I felt useful.

I’m amazed I was paying attention. The whole thing is interesting, isn’t it? What else have I been missing? I typically wear my headphones in the grocery store (all those squeaky cart wheels and beeping registers) and I aim for maximum efficiency by using the self checkout. I hadn’t taken the time to load my playlist on this occasion since I was going to be in and out, and the line for the cashier was short enough. I also don’t make it a habit of talking to strangers, especially to comment on their personal food choices, but I heard on a podcast just that morning that talking to strangers could make me feel happier and Lord knows I can use help some days.

And then there’s the chance that the whole interaction could have gone south at any moment, from my first comment about the creamer. Hattie could have taken my question as an accusation and become defensive, causing me to start examining the gum a little earlier. I could have been distracted when she handed the jar back to the cashier to be rung up a second time. Or what if the cashier took my comment as a critique of her job performance and insisted on scanning the item again? In the grand scheme I guess it wouldn’t really matter. Hattie would pay twice as much for her prunes. I’m not familiar with the prune market (yet), but I bet its just a few dollars per jar. Then again, she could be on a tight budget.

Recently I remembered I like to play a game where I try to be nice just to see what happens, its good for me. Because I have trouble resting, productivity-wise, I continually work on my kindness skills. I try to implement the practice that I think will help me get better (whatever that means). After my philosophical reduction of the universe, I decided the best course of action is to be as kind as is sustainable. I occasionally get lost in negativity and hopelessness. I have cruel thoughts about others. Its lonely in that space feeling like nothing will ever be better. When I am well enough to remember what’s good for me, I keep up with my self-care. It turns out being kind to people is really fun and occasionally brings joy to my shriveled heart. I actively look for opportunities to be kind to others because I need reasons to love myself. Its working tbh. I like to maintain a baseline of having a little extra patience with everyone I meet during my daily activities. I think its best to operate from a nonzero level of automatic forgiveness. It’s hard out here. Things are scary and uneasy. We would do well to speak in soothing tones. After trying it out to see what would happen, I experienced first-hand how I could change outcomes with kind gestures. So now I make it I a practice when I feel anxiety or isolation pressing me back inside myself. It was kinder to tell Hattie about her prunes than it would have been to pretend I didn’t notice (an option I considered) so I spoke up.

Pick the thing that’s kind. I love that saying so much. If your in a situation with someone else where you could choose between a few different things, it’s best to do the thing that’s kind. I can vouch for this not only as a person who has experienced my kind actions coming back to me, but also as someone who has made the choice to act unkindly. We learn from every failed experiment. The thing that continues to surprise me is how outcomes that seem the most magical usually occur after the simplest actions. Those times when you shrug your shoulders and say “eh, it was the right thing to do.” Like me telling Hattie she already bought that jar of prunes—the only effort on my part was a few words. And who knows? Hattie could have been a jar of prunes short on her mortgage payment this month. She could have lost the house! Thank goodness I said something.

My parents used to drink Kahlua every night, so the brand logo carries meaningful weight for me. Would I have noticed the prunes without first noticing the Kahlua? Would I have found the booze-flavored creamer as charming if Hattie were not a sweet old lady? If we hadn’t had the pleasant exchange about day drinking, would I have felt safe enough to say something? Could Hattie have lost her home had I shifted my focus to the candy bars? In other words, did the slight changes I made to my routine align with the characteristics of the others I interacted with to make it so that I would necessarily clock the error of the overcharge? Was I fated to save Hattie’s allowance from the slush fund of Big Grocery? Or was I just being nice? I’ll never know. That drives me nuts.