If I haven't mentioned it before, I work at Target--oh, hello Target web-crawler, glad you could join us.
Reader, meet crawler. Crawler--oh, never mind. You're just a stupid little program that looks for any mention of Target online so your user can hastle anyone slandering the Company.
Depending on the location, Target can be a fascinating place to work, or it can be irksome. I'm blessed, because where I live, most Target guests are level-headed, not holding their noses in the stratosphere out of fear that they might be forced to relate personally to a mere mortal. In fact, some highly interesting people pass through my checklane.
A case-in-point was a couple who passed through my line last month. They appeared prosperous, well groomed and clothed, probably in their late '60s. I suspected nothing unusual until the gentleman took a handful of quarters out of his pocket to pay me ... after his wife had already paid by debit card. When she reminded him that she had paid, he seemed a bit confused, saying, "Yes, yes," but displaying a wry expression that made it appear he was joking. Even then he tried to give me some quarters, and his wife nearly had to drag him away from the register, telling him again that she had already paid. By then his "Yes, yes," conveyed a subtle, plaintive quality and it was obvious that he was confused.
What struck me was the patient love and respect she showed, though he was being difficult. I don't know what kind of dementia he had, but his wife's love had overpowered the irritation or disgust she may have felt because of his decent from a forceful, independent man to what I saw. Her faithfulness touched me deeply.
I have to ask myself if I am capable of loving that faithfully.