01/07/2026
Merry Christmas everyone, Leona Johnson sent this story to me. It’s a good read, enjoy! Always remember there’s things that go on in someones life that we don’t know. Be kind, and thankful. God Bless.
Bar stool
My name’s Robert.
I’m 58.
And last Friday, after thirty-one years working at the same grocery store in southern Ohio, I walked into the break room, sat down on the metal folding chair, and realized—for the first time ever—that I might be done.
Not because of the hours.
Not because of the low pay.
Not because my back hurts more these days than it used to.
But because of a sentence.
A single sentence from a customer who didn’t even look up from his phone:
“You people don’t listen. Honestly, you should be fired.”
All because I asked him to repeat his deli order over the noise of a broken refrigerator unit.
Thirty-one years.
Three decades of customer service.
And that was the comment that pushed something loose inside me.
I started at this store when I was twenty-seven. Back then, it felt like a second home. We knew customers by name. Kids came in after school to share candy. Co-workers held each other’s babies. Old men argued about baseball near the produce bins.
People talked to each other.
And then, slowly, everything changed.
Now?
People shop with earbuds in.
They record us without permission.
They yell because a coupon expired two years ago.
They post videos calling workers incompetent over a 90-cent price difference.
And the hardest part?
We’re expected to smile through it.
To stay gentle.
To stand still and absorb whatever frustration someone brings through the door.
Last week, I watched a teenager scream at a 19-year-old cashier because the store was out of his favorite cereal.
A grown man pounded on the service desk because he didn’t like the way the bagger placed his bread.
A woman threw coins at my coworker’s chest because “I don’t want change; just round it.”
Some days it feels like people come in looking for someone to punish.
What they don’t see is this:
I’ve helped elderly customers find ingredients for recipes their husbands used to love.
I’ve run outside during a thunderstorm to load groceries for a mom wrangling three kids.
I’ve stayed late with coworkers who broke down in the bathroom because they couldn’t afford rent.
I’ve let regulars talk for twenty minutes because I knew I might be the only person they spoke to all day.
But one bad moment—one misheard order—and suddenly I was “the problem.”
After the man walked away, I went into the freezer to cool off the old-fashioned way.
The air stung my face.
And in that tiny, frosty room, surrounded by boxes of frozen peas, I let myself admit something I’ve ignored for years:
People have become lonelier.
Angrier.
More afraid.
More tired.
And grocery workers—like nurses, teachers, truck drivers, servers—are often the closest target.
But here’s the quiet truth no one sees:
Grocery stores are where life happens.
We’re there when the young couple buys their first ingredients for a home-cooked meal.
We’re there when the widow walks through the aisles slowly, touching items her husband used to love.
We’re there when a family buys a cake that says “Congrats, you did it!”
And we’re there when someone pays with loose change because they’re choosing between groceries and gas.
We see humanity at its messiest, rawest, and most ordinary moments.
We don’t wear scrubs.
We don’t carry stethoscopes.
But we serve people, too.
And sometimes, we take the blows meant for a world that feels too heavy.
⸻
This morning, I returned for my shift. Not because I have to—though the paycheck helps.
But because Mrs. Jefferson always comes on Wednesdays and needs help reading labels now.
Because a single dad brings his twins in every Thursday and they light up when I show them the bakery samples.
Because the older man in aisle seven told me last month, “You’re the only person who asks about my day.”
Because kindness still happens here.
Quietly.
Between the shouting.
And because someone has to show the next generation of workers that dignity isn’t something customers hand you—it’s something you carry.
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THE LESSON
The person bagging your groceries may be grieving.
The cashier scanning your items may be working two jobs.
The deli worker slicing your turkey may have stood for nine hours without a break.
Speak gently.
Be patient.
Look up.
Say thank you.
Because behind every uniform is a heart trying—truly trying—to keep the world held together in small, ordinary ways.
And sometimes, those small ways are everything.
I send out Happy Birthday wishes and Happy Anniversary to all who are celebrating this week!
My prayers go out to those who are sick, in need of comfort on the loss of a loved one, or just could use a prayer blessing for financial help. My prayers for you all! Amen!
This is all I have this week! Stay warm and God Bless!
