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At 8 a.m., still wearing sweats with coffee dribbled down my front, I’ve ducked into Walmart after dropping off my kids at school. I hope I don’t see anyone I know. An older woman, her gray hair pulled back in a ponytail, wishes me good morning as she scans my lemons, sweet potatoes and a bar of dark chocolate — you know, the essentials.
“See those five stars on the keypad?” she asks. “You can press one to evaluate whether I’ve done a good job for you. If you press the star on the far right, that’s a positive review.”
“Oh, okay,” I mutter.
She’s perkier than I feel. But her smile is so friendly and warm. She doesn’t make me feel bad or self-conscious about how I look.
I give her five stars.
“Have a great day!” she says after she’s finished bagging my groceries.
“Thanks. You, too.”
A lot of retirees work at this Walmart. I imagine they might rather be on a cruise ship, or perhaps sitting at home with their feet up, watching sparrows at the feeder. Or maybe they enjoy the work: the chance to greet busy people like me at 8 a.m., so they can warm my morning with a smile and gently bag my bar of dark chocolate.
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