Have you ever done something kind for someone else, just because?
It feels good doesn't it?
Well, let the following be a lesson in what NOT to do when committing Random Acts of Kindness (hereby referred to as RAK/RAK's), because it might be misconstrued by the person on the receiving end. Horribly so!
For nearly the past year I've been trying to feel something other than the depression which has clouded everything in my life and I've been trying desperately to find things to do that bring me some semblance of happiness...enter the RAK.
It started out fairly easy enough. I don't like going out much but in the winter time on the way to my various therapy and other doctor's appointment, back when it was colder than a steel drum outside in the South Pole, I'd swing by Dunkin Donuts for a cup of coffee or a white hot chocolate. I'd pay for mine and at the same time, pay for the person behind me. Easy peasy. I'd drive off feeling tickled that I'd done something that made someone else smile.
Every once in a while I'd switch it up and hit Starbucks or this little place called Udder Goodness - also a drive through coffee place, so that I didn't get some sort of bizarre reputation as the "Dunkin Donuts coffee lady."
When it got warmer I stopped going to Dunkin Donuts and pretty much stuck with Starbucks because HELLO...Frapaccinos?
The other day I wanted to take Gaby out to this little harbor that almost no one ever goes to and snap some pictures and let her run around. I decided it was time for another RAK. But where to go? I wasn't in the mood for a Frap and coffee on a day when it's 93F? No thanks. From the back seat Gaby piped up, "Mumma, can we go to McDonalds and get some apple slices?"
What the hell? Why not. I could get some apple slices for her, a couple of bottles of water for both of us, and at the same time I'd commit a RAK.
We hit McD's at lunch time. Perfect. Pickins would be easy. I decided to not pay for the person directly behind me because the line was moving so slowly. So I picked the person two cars behind me. All I saw was a huge Dodge pick up truck.
I have never committed a RAK at McD's before and I really should have taken into consideration that paying for someone eles's meal might have been quite the foreign concept to the person at the cash register. I pull forward and the following conversation ensues.
Overly Happy McD's Cashier: Well Hello, how are you today? Your total is $.
Me: Hi. I'd like to pay for the meal for the truck two cars behind me as well.
OHMC: I'm sorry, I don't understand. Is that person paying for yours?
Me: OK, what I mean is that I am going to pay for my purchase and for whatever the person TWO CARS behind me ordered. Both of them.
OHMC: Oh OK, you'd like to pay for your husband's meal too. I see.
Me: No, he isn't my husband. I don't know who he is. I just want to pay for his meal.
OHMC: Hmmmm, well, I'm not sure I can do that. I mean, I don't know how I'd be able to do that.
Me: Well, it's really easy. You swipe my card for my purchase, then you look on your little computer screen and you find two purchases behind mine and you swipe my card through for that one too. I don't have to be married to someone to pay for his meal. Oh and my husband, the one I am married to, he totally knows I do this. I mean, not that I go around paying for random guys' meals all the time. I usually just get coffee or something. *shutting up now because it's obvious OHMC probably thinks I am a swinger who gets off on buying random men food.*
OHMC: Well, I'd better get my manager to approve this because I'm not sure I can do this.
Me: Hun, it's not your manager's money, it's mine. I mean, technically in the end it's going to be McDonald's money, but right now, this is just me, wanting to pay for that dude's meal. It's really not that complicated.
OHMC : *talking to her manager* We have a situation at the drive - thru window. This lady wants to pay for someone else's meal and I'm not sure I can do that.
Grumpy McDonalds Manager: *swipes my card for my meal then Dodge dude's meal and then hands me my reciept, then looks at the long line of cars that have been piling up while I discuss the finer points of an RAK with OHMC* Thank you. I'm sorry for the delay.
I took a look at the receipt for Dodge dude...a Big Mac meal. I smiled and hauled ass out of the parking lot before he could figure out who had paid for his meal as I forgot to tell OHMC not to tell him which driver it was as I was too busy trying to convince her that there was absolutely nothing wrong with me paying for someone else's meal. Well, as it turns out, I wasn't fast enough when trying to get out of the parking lot. I didn't realize this until I was heading towards the waterfront and right behind me was Dodge dude.
I told myself it was just a coincidence he was directly behind me until I looked in the rear-view mirror and he was pointing at me, signaling me to pull over.
Oh shit! No way, I am not down with this. I do not converse with the givees. Nope. Not happening!
Once the light turned green I gunned the Jeep through the intersection and then made a hasty turn towards the nearest large town and hoped I'd lose him. Gaby was giggling in the back seat as we were literally airborne going over a set of railroad tracks a bit faster than was safe. "Mumma, do dat again! Do it faster!" I turned the stereo down and told Gaby, "No luv bug, that wasn't cool. Mumma probably shouldn't have done that but I just want to get away from a big truck." Gaby giggled again and replied, "OK mumma, why you wanna go away from a big truck? Is dere a bad man driving it?" I told her that I didn't know if there was a "bad man" driving it and I really didn't want to find out for sure. I glanced in my rear-view mirror in time to see Dodge Dude shove a handful of fries into his mouth and realize he was not slowing down.
I made a hasty left hand turn into a golf course that was directly abuts the naval air station/base we live not far from. I thought that if Dodge Dude followed me into the golf course then that was a sign he was following me for sure and I could haul ass onto the base and get the attention of a big strong Navy guy who would hopefully be carrying a very menacing gun. I also made a mental note to myself to look into obtaining a gun permit in the event that I ever recover enough from this to attempt another RAK again!
As I'm driving along the narrow span of newly laid asphalt I hesitantly glance into my rear-view mirror and there, to my horror, is my shadow...the Dodge Dude. I could feel my heart speed up and my blood pressure rise as I thought to myself that there was no way this guy could be going into the golf course at the same time I was. I looked around me and noticed there were no golfers. Of course not! This is Maine after all and who plays golf, in Maine in 90F+ weather? No one around here, that's for sure and especially not today when my luck was running on par with the blonde in the horror flicks that goes down to the cellar to see what's making the scraping noise.
I assumed (isn't that another deadly mistake that most blondes in horror movies make; assuming anything?) that being that the golf course was mostly frequented by officers from the naval base next door that there would be a road into the base from the course. Otherwise you have to drive almost the entire circumference of the base itself to get into the course. I hit the accelerator, not paying any attention to the 15MPH posted speed limit. I was probably doing closer to 40MPH at this point with Dodge Dude following not too far behind me. I was having nightmarish visions from the famous Jennifer Jason Lee, C. Thomas Howell and Rutger Hauer film, The Hitcher, running through my head, as well as several other ghastly scenarios that included being mowed down by a monster-truck and having a Big Mac shoved down my throat until I choked on it. This is me after all...remember, the one got into a strange tangle with a Dyson vacuum cleaner?
Out of nowhere comes a a golf cart crossing the road in front of me with a little old man perched at the wheel, wearing a Boston Red Sox baseball cap and matching jersey. I very nearly almost ran him down so it's no wonder he flipped me off as I flew by. What was I going to do? Pull over and ask him to protect me from the demented weirdo in the Dodge who was going to make lunchmeat out of me?
Much to my utter horror I realized that there was no entrance into the naval air base from the golf course. The road emptied onto a scarcely populated street...the same kind of street you might see in "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre". I bet Dodge Dude had a chainsaw in that pickup of his or maybe even a sawed-off shotgun. Speaking of Dodge Dude, he turned right onto the same exact street I did. Despite the posted speed limit of 25MPH I pushed down on the accelerator and flew down the street, once again, at speeds that were probably not the safest. I prayed that golf carts or little kids on tricycles didn't come out of nowhere. I was also praying that maybe I'd be detected, speeding, by radar and a big burly policeman would pull me over. The kind of man who gets out of his police cruiser and walks like he's been straddling a big mean stallion for days on end, hand perched on gun, permanent scowl on his face. Maybe he'd even have one of those rabid German Shepherd police dogs in the car too, the kind that had a blood-lust for men driving pick up trucks.
There was nary a policeman, cruiser, or even a hobby cop to be seen. Damn!
To say I was starting to get nervous would have been an understatement of epic proportions. I grabbed my cell phone and immediately noticed I had no service bars. Great. Just freaking great! By this point, I really had no idea where the hell I was. I knew I was no longer in the same town as the naval base and was getting into an area where the homes were few and far between and the cell signals were a joke. A quick glance in my rear-view mirror assured me of what I already knew would be there...Dodge Dude. In some freakish way, his truck seemed to have grown even larger.
A long stretch of country road bordering the bay (which bay? Hell if I know!) presented me with an opportunity to floor the Jeep and try and loose Dodge Dude. I reached back and touched Gaby's knee, told her to hang on tight and then I said a quick prayer. I may or may not have also asked God to direct a plague of deer, or even moose into the oncoming path of Dodge Dude. That outta slow him down.
The road circled around the bay, went up and over some hills which Gaby thought was great fun as we were very nearly airborne once again whilst going over them. I looked back in my rear-view mirror and blinked. There was no Dodge Dude behind me. Did he give up? Did I lose him? A smile spread over my lips and I gave a little cheer. Eventually I passed a sign directing my back towards Route 1. YES! Finally something that looked familiar. I turned onto Route 1 and headed back towards familiar territory.
As I drove down Main St. in Brunswick I glanced in my rear-view mirror. SHIT! Directly behind me was Dodge Dude and what was he doing? Is he waving? Why yes, that motherfucker is waving at me. So I grabbed my cell phone and took a picture. If I was going to meet my untimely end by virtue of a 4x4, well by damned there was going to be a photo of the vehicle responsible for the carnage!
I should probably mention that I was stopped at a red light by this point lest anyone think I was trying to drive and take pictures - behind me!
As I waited for the light to turn green Dodge Dude pulled out from behind me and maneuvered himself into the lane to my left. He signaled me to roll down my window and then went to pick up something from the seat next to him. I panicked and thought to myself, "Dear Lord, here it comes. I'm well and truly fucked. He's probably gonna shoot me in the face. In broad daylight. On Main St. I hope I get a nice obituary in the paper. I hope Gareth remembers to pay the mortgage and clean the cat litter boxes. I hope Gareth remembers that I want to be toasted and roasted and doesn't bury me because that would just be bad, and I'm a little claustrophobic. I'd pretty much hate that. I've got clean underwear on, although that probably won't matter because I'm pretty damn close to messing them up. At least I hope their on right side out today..."
Dodge Dude reaches down and lifts a cell phone toward me and yells something in my direction. I can't make out what he's saying, but he's pointing towards the rear of my vehicle. I can't for the life of me make out what he's saying and am wondering if I should roll down my window? Maybe it's a trick? Maybe he wants a clear shot of my face? He was still sitting there yelling at me and I can just barely hear the word "light" and decide that if I'm going to get shot in the face that I might as well get it over with. The light is still red and there's a dump truck in front of me. It's not like I can go anywhere.
I cautiously hit the button to roll down my window and Dodge Dude has a huge smile on his face. Oh wow, he's really excited about this. He yells, "Hey ma'am, you've got a busted tail light in back. I reckon you wanna get that there looked at. By the way, thanks for lunch. You might maybe wanna swap numbers and I can return the favor?"
"No Habla sprechen sie Deutsch!" I shouted back at him and pointed to my wedding ring. Hey, don't judge. I was nervous and the last thing I was expecting was for him to think his Big Mac equated a future booty call.
"Well grassy-ass seenoreeta. Mucho grassy-ass!" And with that, he smiled, waved and tipped head in my direction and drove off.
There ya go folks, the cautionary tale of a Random Act of Kindness gone terribly horribly awkwardly bad! I think, in the future, I'll stick with Dunkin Donuts or Starbucks. Maybe I can deal with being the "Dunkin Donuts Lady" or even the "Starbucks Broad."
