As we go through life we acquire certain quirks, opinions, character traits and other stuff that come to define us. Typically it goes something like, “You know so-and-so, he’s a fillin- the-blank-here guy.” That blank space does a lot of heavy lifting when it comes to describing someone. It can be filled with generic descriptors as simple (or reductive) as good, bad, nice, tough, generous and so on. Or maybe the blank space is made to hold something more specific, possibly related to one’s occupation or hobbies: a numbers guy, a construction guy, a car guy, a football guy, a music guy.
Sometimes two words are jammed together to create a more vivid picture: spit and polish, meat and potatoes, stars and stripes, rough and tumble, bridge and tunnel.
Obviously, there are a lot of different guys out there. One man can even be several kinds at once. However, I think I speak for most guys when I say there is absolutely one kind of guy no one wants to be, the guy holding up the line. No one wants to be that guy, especially because when they are referred to later by the people who were stuck behind him the descriptive one and two word phrases used to characterize them can most definitely not be printed in a family newspaper.
All of which is a long way of saying I was that guy the other day.
It was Friday afternoon and I had slipped out of the office long enough to grab a drink and a snack at the convenience store when my debit card decided to stop working.
I wasn’t worried at first. There wasn’t anyone behind me and I probably hadn’t inserted the card just right into the reader. I gave it half a dozen more quick adjustments and retries before realizing there was now very definitely a line forming behind me.
No one said anything. I don’t think I even received any mean looks, but no one had to do that. You see, they and I both knew I was already trapped in that graceless state of public shame known as being the the guy holding up the line.
Abashed, I removed my stuff and stepped to the side with a shamefaced “Uh, go ahead and take care of them while I try to fix this.”
I had zero cash on me, which put me in a predicament.
Now, I did have another debit card in my wallet, but procrastinator that I am I had yet to activate the thing. If my primary card was absolutely refusing to work, my only option had become to activate the other as quickly as I could.
Pulling out my phone, I dialed the number on the back and fumbled through the automated prompts as quickly as I could.
Mistake. I screwed it up and had to start all over again.
Then came a kind, slightly amused voice, “I got it. Put his stuff on mine.”
I turned to look and saw a regular guy, a nice guy, a patient guy, but most of all a generous guy, a kind guy.
I told him I worked at the paper and to come by the office. I would make it right and take care of what I owed him.
He brushed it off with an easy grin, “It’s okay. We’ve all been there.”
I thanked him again. Scooping up my drink and snack, I exited the store with what dignity remained to me. No one wants to be the guy holding up the line any longer than one has to.
That other guy though? The kind guy, the patient guy, the generous guy? We could all stand to be a little more like that in our day to day lives and I’m going to be on the lookout for my chance to be that guy to someone else first chance I get.
