As my hair has begun to turn gray, I have noticed that people treat me differently. First off, there is the immediate senior discount at restaurants. I’m not sure that’s just because of my gray hair. The first time I got one of those, I was only forty-five and didn’t yet have a gray hair in sight. I think the girl who gave me that one might have decided that the way I look, I must have had a rough life, and took pity on me. However, help and discounts are starting to accumulate in other places as well.
The most common place for this to occur is at a home building store. I can understand why employees would ask me if I would like some help. That is their job. However, it is often other customers who want to lend a hand.
There are times when the word ‘helpful’ is a questionable term. For example, I am building a chicken building and decided to get fifty 2x4s. (There is a discount if you buy at least fifty.) Since they would be the studs in the walls, I wanted them to be straight, so I took each one off the pile and examined its length before putting it back or placing it on my wood cart, depending on whether I deemed it acceptable or not.
I had barely started when a man who was loading from another stack came and asked if he could help me. I would understand this if there were a line of people waiting for boards from that stack, but it was just after six in the morning, and the place was nearly empty. I avoid midday on Saturday at all costs. During those times, a person can pretty much read a whole novel on their phone while they wait for their turn at the lumber stack.
Anyway, I think the man thought I was loading one 2×4 at a time because I couldn’t lift more than that. I hated to be unfriendly, so I let him help me. He piled three at a time on my cart and didn’t analyze them at all. When I got home, I had to sort them into two piles: one for the wall studs and a larger pile for the roof bracing that didn’t need to be as straight.
On my next attempt to get boards, I was able to load them myself. I purchased them and made my way to my pickup. I thought I was free and clear to load all by myself. However, I had just started when a young, petite teenage girl came up.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
I looked at her and figured each board weighed more than she did. “I think I can get them,” I replied. “I hate to take your time.”
“That’s okay,” she said. “I like helping old people.”
I had been loading two at a time, making nice, even stacks. But when she started moving three at a time into my pickup, I, of course, had to increase the quantity I was loading as well. Pretty soon, my pickup had a stack in it that looked like someone had dumped it there with a forklift. When we finished, I thanked her and strapped it down the best I could.
I had others stop to help, but the most recent one was the ultimate. I was back, getting more 2x4s, and was wheeling them out to my pickup when an elderly man pulled up and parked in the Veteran’s spot. He got out and walked hunched over into the store. As old as he looked, I figured he must have been part of the Civil War.
Almost instantly, he was back carrying a small electrical item that he had purchased. He tossed it into his car and came over. “Can you use some help?”
Frankly, I was afraid that if he did too much, he might have a heart attack, but he was not to be deterred. “Grab that end and let’s load together,” he said. We grabbed five at a time, and my neat pile was soon a mess of boards going in all directions. I thanked him and secured my load.
When I got home, I told my wife, Donna, about it. “He probably just wanted to feel needed,” she replied.
As I thought about it, I decided that I also want to be helpful to others when I get old. Of course, I’m not old yet, but maybe I should practice now anyway.