Small Town
In a metro area, the emphasis at Rapid Oil Change is on rapid. Not so in a small town. There is a greeting, a leisurely chat about what kind of oils are available, and the obligatory, “Where are you from?” I’m not a local, and this question is a vital ingredient in most every conversation. Friendly and detail oriented, the emphasis is on the oil change, and making sure the guy in the pit gets every grease point.
I hit my head pretty hard yesterday, so I needed help convincing my neck muscles to relax. I was able to find a licensed massage therapist, located 30 miles west of town. I arrived at a small bungalow, complete with flowers on the porch. An assortment of American flags waved in the breeze, and I wondered if I’d found the right place. She met me at the door and welcomed me in. I sat at the dining room table and filled out a form as she asked, “So, where are you from?” The house was spotless with white carpet, and collectible figurines neatly arranged in the adjoining living room. There was a Kimball organ complete with music books, and plenty of sunshine streaming through the windows. After she reviewed my questionnaire, she opened the door to a well appointed massage area. Certificates of insurance and qualifications lined the walls, and I was told how the massage would proceed. Very professional and a good communicator, she pressed “play” on a small boom box and the sound of hymns quietly filtered through the air. An hour later I was relaxed, and my neck was willing to forgive my error the day before.
One day at the drive through, Jess handed me a Coke and said, “Hmmm. You again. Either you eat here too much or I work too much.”
“How ’bout we settle on a combination of the two?” I offered.
She nodded, and said, “See you tomorrow.” Over the course of several months we’ve gotten to know each other. Now, we visit as she leans out the drive-thru window. When there are no cars behind me, I shut off the engine and we chat while I eat. It’s nice to have company at meal times, and she always has extra napkins. Tonight when I ordered a cheeseburger and a Coke, the voice from the speaker said, “Alan, is that you?”
