Tuesday night I went to get my oil changed after work. I went to my normal Jiffy Lube and walked into the waiting area with my book and planner and picked my seat. There was an older gentleman standing at the counter eating popcorn. I opened my book and started reading about Lisbeth Salander being rushed to the hospital (3rd installment of the The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo series). Popcorn Man has now scooted closer to me and I was thinking. "Why are you standing so close to me and please don't talk to me." As they ALWAYS do, the Jiffy Boy comes in and says, "Miss Heather, this is your air filter. This is the air you are breathing in your car. As you can see it is dirty and you are not breathing clean air. I can replace it for $29.99." My reply, as always, "Yeah I know, I am going home to my parents house this weekend and my dad can just replace it for me."
I was so lying. I am not going home this weekend and my dad is not replacing my air filter. While I probably should replace my air filter, there is no way I am paying Jiffy Boy $29.99 to do it.
But here is where it got interesting. Popcorn Man looks and me and says, "I hope your dad knows how privileged he must be to still be changing your air filter. I lost my daughter to a drunk driver and I would give anything to change her air filter."
I replied with "I am so sorry to hear that." He goes on to say that she was killed 14 years ago. He showed me her senior picture that he carries in his wallet. Her name was Nancy and they adopted her when she was 30 days old. He went on to say that being her father was the greatest joy he had in life. We had a nice talk and for the first time, I didn't want my oil change to go so quickly. He paid for his car, and as he was walking out, he handed me his business card and said, "Please tell your father how proud I am that he raised you to be a polite young lady. And I hope he gets unending joy when he gets to change your air filter."
Best 15 minutes in a tiny Jiffy Lube waiting area that I will ever experience.
That makes me want to cry. Poor man.
ReplyDeleteThis was a touching story. Thanks for sharing.
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