When $3 Means More Than $3

The pick up is from a Wawa, which is a convenience store chain that's near and dear to my heart, since they have relatively healthy food options, all hour access, and bathrooms that are often Not Terrible. 

My fare enters wearing the merch, as she's an assistant manager. She's leaving without clocking in, as they are overstaffed and rather than work the graveyard shift, she gets to go home and sleep on a Sunday night. She's a little guilty about leaving, but orders are orders. She's also chatty about all of this.

I learn that her junior associates aren't thrilled with her for leaving, as Sunday at this location is a "Truck Night", i.e., when an 18-wheeler comes by and the staff has to restock in addition to handling any customers. But it's not as if there should be a rush of people there, and starting her week with sleep on a day when she's got to get her kids to school in the morning... and the youngest is on the autism spectrum.

My children are grown and didn't present that level of challenge, but I'm able to provide a useful strategy or two, and call out a specific point that I wish I knew back in the day... that beating yourself up to be a better parent teaches your kid that, well, that kind of thing is behavior to model. She's thoughtful in her response, and confesses to worrying about her eldest, who isn't on the spectrum, but seems to be picking up her residual anxiety about care for the youngest. 

She's grateful for the perspective and the kindness, and confesses that she doesn't usually talk to her drivers. Ten minutes later, the app tells me about her $3 tip on a $7 fare. 

I'm touched. This happened the better part of a week ago. I'm still touched.