My new best friends, whoever they are
The two women were in danger of being buried under a mound of potato chip bags
I’ve discovered who I want to be when I grow up.
It’s two people, and I don’t know their names. I don’t know much about them at all, but the little that I do has reminded me while we’re all focusing on big issues, sometimes it’s the tiniest moments that show you what matters.
I was in Food Basics. As I came around the corner of an aisle, I slammed on the brakes to avoid crashing into two women who were in danger of being buried under a mound of potato chip bags. They were both short. The chips they were after were on the top rack.
“Here, let me grab that for you,” I said.
“Dunno why they’re up so high,” said the first woman, with a slight grouch. They both had their arms stretched above their heads, doing a combination of reaching for the chips and fending off the deluge they’d set off by managing to tug one free. It was like sour cream and onion Jenga. I asked her which ones she wanted.
“Those ones,” she said, pointing. “I managed to get one. I want three.” She wasn’t indignant, exactly, but she held my gaze as if I would say something bad about anyone wanting a few bags of potato chips. “No problem. Are they any good?” “They are! And this store brand is so much cheaper than the other ones. I highly recommend them,” she said, stuffing the additional two bags in her cart. Her friend nodded, as we commented on how ridiculous the cost of such a simple thing has become.
“Well, maybe I’ll just have to try them!” I’d decided this was the best way to let them know I wasn’t judging them for buying chips because now I wanted them to like me.
As the second woman scooted some things inside the cart, I realized they were shopping together but keeping their things separate. Two friends, maybe sisters, talking as if they’d known each other forever. True to my word, I tossed a bag into my own cart.
“Now I suppose you’re gonna want my name,” my first lady huffed. “And probably my number so if you don’t like ’em, it’ll be my fault. For recommending them.” I started laughing. I promised her I would not hold her responsible if the $1.49 purchase did not meet my expectations.
“I’m sure they’re fine,” I told her. I try not to buy chips because I tend to eat them all immediately. But now I had committed, and putting them back would deliver a blow to a budding friendship that I felt was already on precarious ground.
“Well, whatever, we’ll see …” The two of them pushed on, chip mission accomplished. The second lady was much smilier than the first.
Being taller has its advantages. Offering to reach something for someone is automatic, and you usually do that grocery store choreography where you see each other on every aisle. I kept an eye out for my new short friends, in case they needed an assist anywhere else.
I didn’t see them again until after I’d checked out, where they were sorting out if they had each gotten the right receipt. They’d helped each other pack up their groceries, and I caught myself wondering all kinds of things that weren’t my business. Were they related? Did they live together? How long had they known each other?
“You ladies have a good rest of your day,” I said instead.
“Well, I hope you like those chips,” my new friend said, almost daring me not to. They were kind to each other. They were kind to me. They were funny. I need to remember it’s the smallest interactions that can have the biggest impact.
The chips were good.
I need to remember it’s the smallest interactions that can have the biggest impact