Waitress at Hardee’s
I stopped at a Hardee's on my trip out east. I just wanted a cup of coffee, regular, with cream. I noticed that the waitress was a woman about my age and very overweight. As she shifted from one end of the counter to the other, responding to customers, I saw how hard it was for her to walk. Each step brought a wince of pain to her eyes. Arthritis, I figured, and the weight makes it worse. Too bad she can't get some help with that, but, knowing the salaries at Hardee’s, I guessed she couldn't afford it. I felt sorry for her-until I ordered: one small coffee, regular. “With cream?” she asked, smiling. I felt honored to be served by her. Wanting to prolong the encounter, I asked her where I could get a roadmap. She suggested the next toll booth and smiled again as she handed me a coffee with two creams. She gave me a large size and charged me for a small. Was that a mistake… or her way of saying she liked me as much as I liked her? Jesus must...