Random Act of Kindness

I am happy to report that there are still nice people out there who do random acts of kindness for others. It's a good thing, because I needed this R.A.O.K because as it turns out, someone had done a random act of vandalism on my car.

I'm in line a l o n g time before I even get into the test bay at Air Care Colorado, our state run emissions testing station. I'm ushered politely into the tunnel-o-more-waiting. Almost immediately the polite young man who processed me comes to me and says,

“You do know you don't have a gas cap, right?”

“Yeah, I know. It broke off a long time ago and I've never replaced it.”

“No, ma'am. I'm not talking about the door. I mean gas CAP.”

I lose it. I've had a pretty stressful ten days, I know they test the gas cap for leakage, I've been to emissions testing three times in the fall already with The Transporter's car which failed (among other tests) the gas cap test. 

I imagine myself going home, cannibalizing one of our other Volvos, and then remember that the gas cap which passed is on The Tranporter's car. Which is in Boulder, with The Engineer, at work, because we're waiting for his car parts to arrive and the weather to thaw so he can fix his. (When you drive old cars, always have a spare...) And of course I have no idea where mine is.

I apologize for crying hysterically over a gas cap (and of course over all the facts of the above paragraph and having to come back and get in line again because I've procrastinated so well that it's the next to the last day to accomplish this, but I don't share that...I'm just telling you why I'm nuts) and explain that it's been a bad week.

“Stay right here.”

He literally slinks off, looks around, and then grabs one of their gas caps and puts it on my car.

“That ought to make your week just a tiny bit better.”

I beam and thank him, drying my eyes.

When the test is over, I notice that there is once again no gas cap. Makes sense. I PASS EMISSIONS. Miracle. As soon as the paperwork guy is done with me he dismisses me.

All of a sudden, I see Mr. Nice Guy sneaking back over, and hear the distinct Volvo click of a tight gas cap. He pats my car like they do at pit stops in Nascar and runs off before I can thank him.

I was shocked. What a totally nice thing to do for this hysterical lady about to just totally lose her marbles. Made my day. Which was a good thing, because when I got to the DMV, and W A I T E D again, one of the other vehicles I was renewing needed proof of insurance, and I didn't have it with me, and my agents office which I called to have them FAX proof was already closed for the holiday...so I get to go back today. On the last business day of the month. Looking forward to it.

~Tina

P.S I can hear you saying, “I bet she just didn't put it on when she last got gas.” No way. It was a freezing day, we'd just had a snowstorm, and without the door covering my cap, it was crusted with snow and ice. I remember when I went to put it back on considering getting my gloves but I hate getting them gas smelling, so I just took one for the team and twisted that cold, icy cap back on. We have had a string of car vandalism in town, all over town, random things. What would they want with my gas cap? Ooohhh...maybe they need it to pass emissions...

People Watching: Writer Style

Are you a people watcher? I think I've always been. I used to just watch because it's fun, but now I've found that it's a great way to build depth into your characters, and get ideas for minor ones.

I think waiting rooms are the best for this exercise, and believe me, I've spent my share in a wide variety of those. This week found me in the ER with my “Youngest Teenager” (the child formerly knows as YellowBoy who is now 13 and is starting to like red...too...)

I don't know if non-writers do this, because I've never asked one, but I watch people for details so that I can figure out who they are and why they are there. This is not much of a challenge at an airport if they're at the gate with you about to board the same flight to Seattle. It's much harder in the ER.

What's wrong with them? Why are there three family members over there (all who look like they could use a visit to a doc) and a perfectly normal looking guy over there who looks like he's in line at the DMV, except for the carefully folded, faded red piece of cloth he's clutching? Tightly.

The man screaming verbally abusive obscenities that I'm glad my head injured child is paying no attention to seems to have been dragged here by his romantic partner, who when threatened, tries to sneak a pill out of her purse and hand it to him over by the bathroom but not much escapes me. They leave after he swallows it with...spit I guess. Probably not his day for a full mental health evaluation though I applaud the woman for trying. He's in obvious need of serious help.

The trio also leaves. They do stop by the desk and leave saying, “We don't have time to wait anymore for the migraine to be treated.” “OK” says The Cheerful Guy who made my head-injured boy answer all the form questions. Good for him. Head injury test and registration all in one.

I still don't know if it was guy-on-oxygen looking like death, or slightly older woman between her two companions, looking like life had gotten the best of her, or the girl whose face I never saw because woman in the middle was stroking her head THE WHOLE HOUR we sat there, who had the migraine. I'm voting for Mr. Oxygen, though.

However, Cheerful Reception Guy sure got an earful about letting them leave. A “clacker” (name the movie) supervisor came by and the gist of the um, rear-chewing boiled down to you can't let ER patients leave without trying to make the experience “more satisfying” for them. “What are you going to do next? Dip it in yogurt and cover it in chocolate?” (I'm in a movie quoting mood...) I don't think that would have helped. I know as a patient that I have the right to refuse treatment. Besides, no one complained when the mentally unstable man left.

My YT (TCFKAYB) (youngest teenager, the child formerly known as YellowBoy) is fine. He has a closed head injury but bounced back like kids do by the time the weekend was over. Meanwhile, I've met some people who just might show up in my novel. Mr. DMV even came back out to the waiting room, red cloth folded in a different configuration..I'm dying to solve that mystery.

Do you people watch? Do you use that for your characters? Or do you have another method you'd like to share?

~Tina, who really needs to find the brevity card before the challenge starts...