Thank you so much for coming to my rescue in Wal-Mart the other day.
And thank thank you so much for coming to my rescue outside of Wal-Mart the other day.
There I was, blissfully driving down the back country roads trying to get to my chiropractor before he leaves for a week, enjoying the beautiful snow-laden scenery, and then WHAM, my driver’s-side windshield wiper FLEW OFF the car into oblivion, never to be seen again on this earth.
This, as you agreed so readily when we were standing in Wal-Mart, was not ok. One should not be driving in blowing snow behind other vehicles who are spewing slush up onto your windshield without properly functioning windshield wipers.
I peered blindly through my windshield, praying desperately for supernatural vision, someone to help me, that I could somehow still make it to my appointment on time, and for my memory of how to get to Wal-Mart by memory without the added aid of sight to not fail me.
I made it to Wal-Mart and there I stood in front of the windshield wipers, biting my lip. Whhaaaa? There are how many different kinds and sizes of windshield wipers? My eyes glazed over, and all my thoughts of how well I could function around cars because of my auto-mechanic genius of a Dad left me.
I made a desperate call to the only person I could think of who could help me (who I knew wasn’t currently at work), and they couldn’t help me. While I was on the phone, spilling non-stop at the mouth about my whole predicament, you came around the corner and said:
“Uh, ma’am? I can help you.”
I hung up on the person I was on the phone with and gushed some exuberant thank-yous while intermittently answering your questions about the make/model/year of my car.
You then handed me a windshield wiper and told me it was the one I needed.
I don’t know that I’ll know for sure what inspired you to draw me a diagram on the back of the wiper packaging about how to change the blade out, but I have little doubt that it was the blank look on my face which inspired such a charitable act.
I nodded and continued looking blank throughout your whole explanation of how to change out the wiper blade, and then marched confidently to the front of the store, purchased the blade, and headed out to the windy, snowy, cold parking lot with great trepidation . . . but with my most confident of confident gaits.
There I was, getting colder by the minute, and definitely not succeeding at changing out the blade. I was getting a little desperate, because I really needed to make this appointment, and I really, really, needed a windshield wiper blade in order to make this happen safely.
“Ma’am? How’s that working out for ya?”
“Not well at all!” I thrust the wiper blade at you, and started in on my avalanche of profuse thanks again.
I take a slight bit of satisfaction in the fact that you had a bit of a fight with getting the thing changed out, too, but really I mostly am just eternally grateful that you scanned the parking lot and saw me flailing around trying to get the crazy thing changed and took pity on me. And you aren’t even a Wal-Mart employee!
So, all that to say, thank you for rescuing me in Wal-Mart. And, thank you for rescuing me outside of Wal-Mart a short while later.
And my last remark to you? It was true. You were a life-saver.