There was a day this week I was waiting in the drive-thru for my Nacho BellGrande and I overheard one worker talking to another.
The teenage Hispanic girl taking orders wore a thick, curly ponytail with dark, silky hair I could only dream of having. She had a big smile, cute figure, and wore make-up the way JLo wears it; a bit too much for my skin tone, yet just right for her.
She stood next to an older gentleman, also seemingly Hispanic. I would guess he might be approaching 40s if he isn't there already. He is taking off a part of his uniform that leads me to believe his role is to clean, not run a cash register or fill a burrito. He glances at her sideways and hopes for her attention.
Like typical teenage fashion, she forgets about the generation gap. She asks him if he has a computer at home, "you know" she says, "the internet? do you have the internet?"
He confidently answers yes, yes and she asks him if he has a myspace account. He shifts and looks away, unsure of how to answer; trying to hide his confusion.
She tells him to give her his myspace account sometime and she takes another order, ultimately scurrying over to assist another worker; she leaves the scene and he is off the hook.
He puts his uniform away and does a little happy dance after she walks away, singing something in Spanish. He wasn't sure what she was talking about, but I bet he will figure it out at soon as he gets home. She has no idea how important he felt from their little interaction. How he looked at her like an angel from heaven and hung on to every word she said.
She also has no idea the 29 year old customer waiting for her Nacho BellGrande felt pretty lame about not having a myspace account, either.