Episode 2: The Little Things

for a preface, see the home page of my work stories: Paradise (aka The Job)

"Another day, another dollar," was a phrase much-spoken by a former coworker. She'd be tying on her apron, singing to herself, preparing for eight hours of mind-numbing dishwashing. Nearly any conversation with her would veer toward this general relinquishing of herself to the necessity of work. Another day. Another day. Another day.

Now I find myself saying the same thing to coworkers.
"Hey, how are you?"
"Eh, good. Another day."
And then my mind leaps to another similar phrase. "Different day, same old crap."

This is where my mind was the other morning at breakfast, doing all the usual things.
Setting up the dining room. Clearing tables. Serving this one gal her usual. Ad libbing some sign language to the resident who forgot her hearing aids. All the usual things.

I'm wiping down a table when a voice breaks into my thoughts. "Haben ich frohlich tag," says the voice. I look up to see Mr. Toast (so named because he LOVES toast, of all things). He's paused by the table, smiling faintly, waiting for a response with a twinkly Santa expression on his face. Speaking in German is sort-of a running joke between us. I've seen him try to start that joke with others, and they never would run with it, which is totally their choice. Foreign languages were some of my favorite classes in school, so I have joined in heartily.
So far, I've learned that Mr. Toast grew up in a tiny Minnesota village where he spoke three languages: German at home, German and Czech with the neighbor kids, and English in school. I've also learned that for all he doesn't remember, Mr. Toast can recite The Jabberwocky by Lewis Carrol without fault. Then there's the bits of German he still remembers. For example, "Haben ich frohlich tag" means "Have a good day."

Long story short, Mr. Toast is wishing me well, smiling and waiting. I smile back.
"Danke," I say, thanking him, wishing I knew more German. "Danke schoen."
That's our whole conversation, just seven words, but it sends him hobbling out of the dining room with a smile on his face, and that makes me smile, too.

It's just one of those little things. A kind word here or there, a sarcastic one-liner by another staff member, or finding that someone saved me a piece of yesterday's German Chocolate Brownie and labeled the plastic wrap with my name. Chocolatey sugar, for me? Yeah, that's all it takes. Little things...moments that abolish the idea of Just Another Day. Little moments that make the day.