I don’t trust new people.
I want my doctor to remain the same. My barber to remain the same. And the woman who makes my sandwiches at the grocery store deli to remain the same.
Which she didn’t.
It was someone new there yesterday.
Unhappy but composed, I ordered the same sandwich I always do.
“Turkey sandwich, please.”
She got out a piece of paper to write down the details.
“What kind of bread would you like that on?” she asked.
That was annoying because the regular woman already knows.
“Soft roll,” I said.
“And what would you like on it?”
“Just lettuce, tomato and mustard.”
“That’s it?” she asked.
“That’s it,” I said.
So I went to get some potato chips and when I came back the sandwich was complete and wrapped in brown paper. She had made it very quickly and had been rather nice.
Which got me to thinking.
Maybe I judge people too quickly. Maybe I’m too harsh.
When I got home, I opened up the sandwich to make sure she got everything right.
And there, exactly as I had asked, was the lettuce, tomato and mustard.
And nothing else.
Not even turkey.
And it was at that moment I realized just how literally she had taken my comment, “Just lettuce, tomato and mustard.”
Proving that trust in a new person carries with it its own reward:
A $6.99 mustard sandwich.