Sorry Doesn’t Always Cut It

Based on a true story…

It was a typical Sunday morning, as I lay in bed in a deep sleep. My wife had been up for quite a while I guess, taking care of the dogs. I was startled awake as she burst into the bedroom. “I’m making pancakes for breakfast” she said, “but I’ve run out of milk. Go to Wegman’s and buy some.”

I lay in bed for another few minutes, trying to rouse myself. Her second call finally got me out of bed. I threw on some clothes and went downstairs. There on the counter was the half made batter. I started to leave, but was stopped by my mother-in-law, who asked me to pick up a cup of coffee for her while I was out. I graciously agreed. It was the least I could do.

I arrived at the supermarket a few moments later, briskly walking to the refrigerated section where I found the 1% milk. I grabbed a half gallon container, and proceeded to the coffee bar. I purchased a large cup, you know, the fill it yourself type which I began to fill with decaf. The coffee just trickled out, as if the container was just about empty. A closer examination showed that there was plenty of coffee left, so I pressed harder on the lever. The coffee began to fill at a normal rate.

As the cup filled to the top, I released the lever, but to my surprise, the coffee continued to fill the cup. The cup soon began to overflow, and despite all my efforts, I could not get it to stop. I was still holding the cup, and the hot coffee began to burn my hand.

There was a very cute blonde girl behind the counter, and I asked her for help. “Press harder on the lever and then release it,” she said. I was assured that this would stop the flow of coffee. I followed her instructions, but to no avail. My hand was once again placed in the path of the hot flow, and for the second time I was burned. “The coffee is still pouring out,” I told her, and she finally came to assist.

After some hardship, she got the coffee to stop pouring out. She turned to me and said: “Sorry for the inconvenience. Would you like me to empty some of the coffee out of the cup?” I asked her to just put it in a new cup altogether, as the old one was quite soaked on the outside. She did, and I left.

I walked to my truck, got in and began to back out of my parking spot. As I did, it felt like I had rolled over a speed bump. Since there were no speed bumps where I was parked, I got out of my truck to see what I had rolled over. There on the ground, under my truck, was the same young girl who had just a few minutes ago so “graciously apologized” for my inconvenience. She seemed quite injured, and looked at me pleading with her eyes for help. I knew instinctively that there was only one thing to do.

“Sorry” I said, looking back at her. I got in my truck, and drove home.

allan
jai guru deva