Quizno’s is my usual spot for a quick lunch and since I eat the same thing every day, I don’t even have to order. I walk in; smile and they know what to do. However, I do have to fix my own drink at the self serve counter. So there I was, filling up my new biodegradable cup with their wonderful sweet tea. (Quizno’s just changed cup criteria and I hate it and have, in fact, filed a complaint with corporate. A cup that bio-degrades before I’m finished with my tea is just not acceptable… but that’s a topic for another story).
The big yellow and green container that dispenses the tea is on the end of the self serve counter and a table with stools backs right up to it. Being a daily patron, I‘ve had a chance to notice certain things - specifically how the tea will splatter anything within a two foot radius if you don’t hold your glass just right underneath the spout. Generally, priding myself on being the best Quizno Ambassador I can be, I lean over to whoever is sitting in the ‘hot seat’ and announce, “Careful or you’ll get splattered.” Sometimes the response is thankful; other days I get the deer in the headlight looks, but either way, I’ve done my good deed.
On this particular day I notice a young man, maybe thirteen or fourteen years old sitting in this spot. He wasn’t eating and had one of those small clear plastic cups filled with ice water. You know the kind - they literally scream “I couldn’t or didn’t order a full size drink”. The young man’s shoulders were slumped and he had his head down. He wore an oversized unadorned tee shirt and while his pants were of the popular baggy variety, I didn’t glimpse any hint of plaid boxers that the kids like to sport these days. As other customers went by he would raise his eyes slightly, as if to speak, but never did.
I walked my way through the line, was awarded my ready-to-fill biodegradable cup and made my way to the self serve counter. Before I even had a chance to give him the heads up about the splatter, he turns to me and in barely an audible whisper says, “Do you have any money? I need bus fare.”
All my ALERT senses went into overdrive. He’s in a gang, he wants money for drugs, he’ll see me with cash and rob me when I go to the car- you know the thoughts. I’m also thinking there’s a little Greyhound station just down the street from where we were. Geez, this kid is asking for big bucks.
“No, I’m sorry,” I say and look away. He thanked me and dropped his head, staring at his FREE water. Now this really bothered me. I mean really, REALLY bothered me. I filled my “I’m fortunate enough to be able to pay for mine” regular sized cup, applied the lid, grabbed a straw and went back to the counter to pickup my sandwich.
Spotting the manager at the counter, I lean over and nod toward the young man, asking, “Did he eat lunch here?”
“No” she replied, "Did he ask you for food?"
“No, I said, " but he did ask me for bus fare.” She proceeds to tell me this happens several times during the week and well, let’s face it, she can’t help everyone and she sure can't feed everyone for free. I continued to stand at the counter glancing over at the young man. The whole situation just got me, right in the pit of my stomach “Maybe he’s hungry,” I told her. “Let me buy him lunch.”
“No, she replied with a smile, “How 'bout I comp him a sandwich, …just for you.”
I smiled, thanked her and walked over to the young man. “Hey", I said softly, not wanting to embarrass him, “are you hungry?”
“Yes mam, I am” he responded quickly.
I asked, “Would you like some lunch?”
He nodded.
“Well, that nice lady over there is going to fix you a sandwich. What would you like?” I asked.
He glanced over at the counter where the manager was watching us, looked down and replied softly, “Anything will be ok.” I looked over my shoulder and nodded at the manager. She reciprocated the nod and smiled.
“Where do you need to go?” I asked him.
“Home...west Atlanta,” he replied quickly, “I rode the bus over here. I had a job interview,” he points down the street, “and I lost my ticket.” He puts his hand in his pocket and turns it inside out for me to see there was nothing there.
I’m thinking… ok, so we’re talking MARTA here, not Greyhound bus fare. This makes a huge difference. “Son, just exactly how much do you need to get home?” I asked.
“Two dollars,” he replies softly and looks down again. I open my wallet and spot three one dollar bills. Taking them out, I fold them over and lay the money on the table. “Look at me,son”, I say in my best Ms. Mothercraft voice, “Do you have a mama?”
“Yes,” he says.
“Is she at home waiting on you?” I ask.
Again, he replies with another “Yes”.
"Listen close now, ...if I give you this money you better not be buying drugs.”
“Oh, no mam,” he exclaims, “I don’t do no drugs, I’m a good kid.”
“Well, here’s the deal- if you weren’t a good kid before, you will be now. Got it? I don’t loan money to druggies or thugs.” For the first time that afternoon I saw a hint of a smile.
“Yes mam, I understand,” he replied.
The big yellow and green container that dispenses the tea is on the end of the self serve counter and a table with stools backs right up to it. Being a daily patron, I‘ve had a chance to notice certain things - specifically how the tea will splatter anything within a two foot radius if you don’t hold your glass just right underneath the spout. Generally, priding myself on being the best Quizno Ambassador I can be, I lean over to whoever is sitting in the ‘hot seat’ and announce, “Careful or you’ll get splattered.” Sometimes the response is thankful; other days I get the deer in the headlight looks, but either way, I’ve done my good deed.
On this particular day I notice a young man, maybe thirteen or fourteen years old sitting in this spot. He wasn’t eating and had one of those small clear plastic cups filled with ice water. You know the kind - they literally scream “I couldn’t or didn’t order a full size drink”. The young man’s shoulders were slumped and he had his head down. He wore an oversized unadorned tee shirt and while his pants were of the popular baggy variety, I didn’t glimpse any hint of plaid boxers that the kids like to sport these days. As other customers went by he would raise his eyes slightly, as if to speak, but never did.
I walked my way through the line, was awarded my ready-to-fill biodegradable cup and made my way to the self serve counter. Before I even had a chance to give him the heads up about the splatter, he turns to me and in barely an audible whisper says, “Do you have any money? I need bus fare.”
All my ALERT senses went into overdrive. He’s in a gang, he wants money for drugs, he’ll see me with cash and rob me when I go to the car- you know the thoughts. I’m also thinking there’s a little Greyhound station just down the street from where we were. Geez, this kid is asking for big bucks.
“No, I’m sorry,” I say and look away. He thanked me and dropped his head, staring at his FREE water. Now this really bothered me. I mean really, REALLY bothered me. I filled my “I’m fortunate enough to be able to pay for mine” regular sized cup, applied the lid, grabbed a straw and went back to the counter to pickup my sandwich.
Spotting the manager at the counter, I lean over and nod toward the young man, asking, “Did he eat lunch here?”
“No” she replied, "Did he ask you for food?"
“No, I said, " but he did ask me for bus fare.” She proceeds to tell me this happens several times during the week and well, let’s face it, she can’t help everyone and she sure can't feed everyone for free. I continued to stand at the counter glancing over at the young man. The whole situation just got me, right in the pit of my stomach “Maybe he’s hungry,” I told her. “Let me buy him lunch.”
“No, she replied with a smile, “How 'bout I comp him a sandwich, …just for you.”
I smiled, thanked her and walked over to the young man. “Hey", I said softly, not wanting to embarrass him, “are you hungry?”
“Yes mam, I am” he responded quickly.
I asked, “Would you like some lunch?”
He nodded.
“Well, that nice lady over there is going to fix you a sandwich. What would you like?” I asked.
He glanced over at the counter where the manager was watching us, looked down and replied softly, “Anything will be ok.” I looked over my shoulder and nodded at the manager. She reciprocated the nod and smiled.
“Where do you need to go?” I asked him.
“Home...west Atlanta,” he replied quickly, “I rode the bus over here. I had a job interview,” he points down the street, “and I lost my ticket.” He puts his hand in his pocket and turns it inside out for me to see there was nothing there.
I’m thinking… ok, so we’re talking MARTA here, not Greyhound bus fare. This makes a huge difference. “Son, just exactly how much do you need to get home?” I asked.
“Two dollars,” he replies softly and looks down again. I open my wallet and spot three one dollar bills. Taking them out, I fold them over and lay the money on the table. “Look at me,son”, I say in my best Ms. Mothercraft voice, “Do you have a mama?”
“Yes,” he says.
“Is she at home waiting on you?” I ask.
Again, he replies with another “Yes”.
"Listen close now, ...if I give you this money you better not be buying drugs.”
“Oh, no mam,” he exclaims, “I don’t do no drugs, I’m a good kid.”
“Well, here’s the deal- if you weren’t a good kid before, you will be now. Got it? I don’t loan money to druggies or thugs.” For the first time that afternoon I saw a hint of a smile.
“Yes mam, I understand,” he replied.
“Now, here’s what I want you to do, " I continued, "When you get home, the first thing I want you to do is give your mama a big ole hug. Can you do that for me?” He nods his head. “And you tell her that the hug is from me, a mama just like she is. You tell her I’m passing it on. From now on she better be looking out for a kid in need because us mom’s have to stick together and take care of our kids. One day when she’s least expecting it, some young man will need her help, and I’m depending on her to follow through. Can you remember to tell her?”
He smiles and says, “Oh, yes' m, I can… and thank you.” I pat him on the shoulder and turn to leave but not before seeing him bite into the fattest Quizno sandwich I’ve ever seen.
Sometimes you just have to let your Ms. MOTHERCRAFT instinct override your DANGER Will Robinson instinct.
He smiles and says, “Oh, yes' m, I can… and thank you.” I pat him on the shoulder and turn to leave but not before seeing him bite into the fattest Quizno sandwich I’ve ever seen.
Sometimes you just have to let your Ms. MOTHERCRAFT instinct override your DANGER Will Robinson instinct.
It’s not hard to understand-
Put yourself in another’s place,
They may be going through burdens
That you have yet to face.
You may have been blessed with wisdom
Or more courage to endure.
You may be blessed with strength and wealth
While they are weak and poor.
So never turn your ear away
Or refuse to lend a hand,
Put yourself in another’s place
And you will understand.
~ Delores D’Amien
Put yourself in another’s place,
They may be going through burdens
That you have yet to face.
You may have been blessed with wisdom
Or more courage to endure.
You may be blessed with strength and wealth
While they are weak and poor.
So never turn your ear away
Or refuse to lend a hand,
Put yourself in another’s place
And you will understand.
~ Delores D’Amien
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