Sometimes, I get angry at life.
And I should because there are elements of it that are downright unfair.
Then, something happens to even the ledger.
I’d ordered my pizza and realised I’d forgotten my wallet. I have excuses, and none of them relate to any onset of early dementia, despite claims from the gallery at home.
Never mind, you don’t want to hear those.
In a mild panic, I moved to the counter to cancel my order.
Again, don’t judge me but I was buying a pizza – a good one, built with Turkish love and so heavy with ingredients that you could use it as a doorstop.
Only 20 minutes from home, I determined that the best course of action would be to keep the order, ask the kitchen to put it on hold for the time it would take me to go home, grab my wallet and return to the restaurant to collect my carefully-chosen, freshly grilled toppings.
“No, don’t worry. You don’t have to go home,” one of three men behind the counter said.
His English was good, but a little broken. Maybe he didn’t understand. I’d forgotten my wallet. I wasn’t able to pay for the purchase I’d painstakingly extracted from the menu.
“It’s okay. You pay next time,” he said.
This man, out of the goodness of his heart, had just imparted the greatest gift anyone could offer a complete stranger – trust.
I’d never met him. But he offered to trust me.
So just when you thought the world had become void of trust, there it is. Out of the blue. Left of centre. Someone I’d never met who was busting his butt as a new business owner to make ends meet, had allowed me the freedom to pay “next time”.
I did of course return to the restaurant the next day to pay up, with a massive “thank you” attached.
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