There is a Sanity Clause
Written by John MacphersonThis morning there was a frantic pre-Christmas rush at the Post Office, which is situated in the corner of a small congested supermarket. A long queue snaked back from the PO counter and unavoidably clashed with the equally long line of people clutching baskets of groceries waiting to pay at the woefully understaffed checkout.
Tempers were fraying, as small children trying to escape the enforced boredom by whirling like dervishes tripped the unwary; feet shuffled as those who’d worn their warmest clothes to combat the wintery chill outside started to feel beads of sweat form and roll down their spines. Having cycled down, dropping my small boy at the nursery on the way, dashing to the bank and various other places before I got to the Post Office, I was already dripping sweat and about to expire with the heat, whilst juggling cards, bills, and a parcel.
Far in front of me in the PO queue something was causing a hold-up, a woman’s strained voice could be heard at one of the two active counters. Then she hastily apologised and ran out, pushing through the waiting crowd, to use the cash machine on the wall outside, because her credit card had been rejected at the counter and she’d insufficient cash for the postage on the cards and gift she’d just tried to post. The crowd around me tutted and grumped. Two women behind me made their frustration evident as they discussed the woman’s inability to be properly organised, which of course meant she must be an abject failure as a mother too.
The woman quickly returned and quietly apologised to the people at the front of the queue, and with tears beginning to well up in her eyes admitted to the cashier that she’d failed to get any cash from the machine outside. Unsympathetic grumbles again emanated from behind me and I turned to offer a disapproving look at the scowling faces of the two grumpy women, one tutting at me, the other laverting her eyes by looking at her watch with a dramatic, but pointed, flourish.
I moved sideways into a space between a pair of static displays to see if I could establish what exactly was happening. The woman at the front looked utterly defeated, her face betraying the fact that this was too much and had just simply overwhelmed her. Then suddenly from the adjacent counter another customer leaned over, put her hand gently on the woman’s shoulder and in a hushed voice said “Here dear, let me help you, take this to pay for it.” and at the same time slipped a £10 note across the counter to her.
The recipient looked at her in astonishment at this unexpected turn of events, and her face glowed as she realised what was happening, but she said “No I can’t accept it”. But the donor insisted, saying “I think I recognise you, I’ve seen you in the village a few times, no matter, you can give it back to me sometime.”
The few people close enough to hear the interaction looked on in silence, whilst the grumpy ones behind me continued to moan incessantly.
It was a small gesture, but sometimes such simple things can have a significant effect on the beneficiary, and this one turned a stranger’s morning around.
In this ‘season of giving’ it’s worth remembering it’s not what you give, it’s the reason why that really matters.

Discussion (2 Comments)
Good story John. Nice to read of people’s generosity (not just in financial terms). A month ago, my wife and I helped out at the local Tesco superstore for the local Food Bank organisation. I have to say that the Food Bank bods were brilliant at getting things done; the store’s customers showed remarkable generosity in their grocery donations to the FB. Must also mention that Tesco were more than helpful too – helping to sort out issues of storage and transport and donating an extra 30% over what was collected on the day.
Aye it was lovely to witness. Helping out with the FB is a pretty good thing to do any time of the year but particularly at Christmas. Good to hear that Tesco has a heart too!