When I took three rugs to the laundromat, I wasn’t sure what kind of washer to use. A previous trip hadn’t gone well and the machine quit mid-cycle. The attendant was an impatient guy who scolded me and threw my rugs in a different washer.
So, this time I asked the attendant for advice. She was a petite woman with two pig tails and about a dozen necklaces. Smiling, she picked up my rugs, tucked them into a front-loading washer and said, “This should work. I’m Sandy.”
Now, I’ve been going to this laundromat for over twenty years and been helped (or not) by a lot of different attendants. None of them told me their name.
A while later, a woman customer asked me which dryer to use and I said I wasn’t sure. “Ask Sandy,” I said and pointed to the young woman with pig tails. “She’s Day Three,” the woman said, rolling her eyes. As if someone with three days’ experience couldn’t possibly know anything.
“She was helpful,” I said and thought to myself: “Even more, she was kind.”
