Curbside Confessions, Part One

 Hey. Just yesterday this thing happened. The phone rang and I answered with my usual cheery "W.D.Deli." The voice on the other end said, "This is Douglas. I'm here for my curbside order." I asked him what sort of vehicle I might find him in outside. He told me that he was in a grey Jeep. I told him that I'd be right out with his order.

I grabbed his order off the to-go table and trotted outside to find the Jeep. I like Jeeps. They're pretty cool. There was a time when Wayne and I had a theory that only cute/handsome/hot guys drove Jeeps. Of course, that's silly. But it was always fun to spot one on the highway and speed up to see if the theory held true. Spoiler alert: Only sometimes. Sometimes the hot guys are in Subarus. I guess it's kind of like that thing we all used to do when we were kids spotting VW Beetles on the road.

Anyway. I found our big, burly, mountain man of a customer Doug in his Jeep and handed his order over to him through the passenger side window. I told him the total, processed his credit card on the tablet in my hand and asked him if he needed a receipt. I told him that I liked his Jeep and asked him how long he had owned it and we talked about how much he enjoyed his Jeep. He told me that he had bought it new in 2005 and over the years he'd had to have some repairs and replacements done on it and  - well, we pretty much exhausteded the topic of his Jeep.

More than once he asked about how business was going for us in light of the pandemic, etc., and he mentioned more than once how happy he was that we were still "hanging in there." 

Then he stopped and said, "Hey."

I said, "Yes?"

"On a more personal note, if I may, if it's not being too personal, I mean, I assume you're gay, right? [I admitted this less than earth-shaking truth.] And his tone changed. "I need to tell you something. I've been coming to the deli a lot over the years, a lot of times with my dad. I want to tell you: He came out to me when he was 73." His voice broke just a little bit. "He didn't come out to me voluntarily. We were talking and I asked him. I cornered him. Forced him to tell me. I want you to know that we would come to the deli, and I would observe you and your partner - not in a creepy, stalking way - and the way you just live your lives and interact with people. I know you probably don't do it in any kind of intentional way, but - it helped me. It helped me understand my dad. It made things make sense. It made it easier for me to accept my dad and understand what he might be going through, as well as dealing with my own feelings about it. I want you to know that I really appreciate it, and again, I'm so glad that you're here, man, that you're still here." His eyes watered. His voice was shaking.

I was taken aback and quietly responded with words of appreciation. Humbled. Really.

"I hope it means something to you because it really means a lot to me," he said.

"Are you kidding? I'll take this moment and live on this for a while," I told him.

I came away with a salad bowl full of flavors and feelings. How grateful I was that he came to the deli that day and that I was the one who -by the luck of the draw - got to take his order out to him. How thankful I was that he felt like sharing all of that with me. How lucky we are to live and work in a business that brings people the comfort and happiness that comes with food (good food!) - and that everyday we have the opportunity to welcome people into our little party at W.D.Deli. And this: We (me, you, everybody) have no idea how we affect the people around us sometimes. We're not always aware that other people are seeing us, watching us, observing our behaviors. 

Santa Claus is not the only one watching, kids.