Barbara J. Hamby

Mood of the Day

Surly. That seemed to be the mood of the day when gray was still the color of the sky at Noon. I stopped in a Subway for a healthy sandwich. The “sandwich designer” who prepared my order never smiled, asked only necessary questions, took my money and turned away—not even a cursory “Thanks.”

The sign on the door said, “Ask about becoming a sandwich designer.” That’s how I knew what to call my server. Sure, it’s a boring job—but there are people who can make it less so by being cheerful. I just didn’t run into any today.

It was the same story at the grocery store. The young man who rang up my purchases didn’t ask me if he had loaded the bag I brought from home too heavily. He ignored my several attempts to lift it and turned away before I finally managed to get it into a cart to wheel to the car. No smile was in evidence there either.

When I went into a clothing store, I didn’t encounter a clerk and decided that I didn’t need any of the tempting items that almost fit. I seem to be in an in-between-stage where one size is too small and the next one is too big.

The sun didn’t show its face until after I’d had a short nap and was in the pool for my workout in the late afternoon. The rest of the day was brighter. The sun can do that.

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