Random acts of kindness

By TAD BARTIMUS

The woman on the phone spoke with a big-city accent, talking very fast and giving me a bad adrenaline rush: "Your credit card isn't going through. I'd like to check the number again." Words to chill your soul.

I thought my bases were covered. Instead, my stomach churned and I knew, with a certainty born of experience, that the account number wasn't the problem. Money was. I played out the charade and read her back the digits on the plastic.

"Hmmm," she said. Now we both knew. But what to do? The service was already performed.

Once again, I was the recipient of a random act of kindness by someone I'm never likely to meet. That accounts receivable woman didn't have to cut me any slack.

"Let me check with the bank, I'll call you right back," I said, mortified and positive she was thinking, "Yeah, sure you will." How many deadbeat bills does she have to chase down in a year? But this woman surprised me when all she said was, "Okay, no problem." She gave me her toll-free number and hung up.

A frantic call to the bank confirmed that my deposit wasn't there yet. What to do? "Listen, here's the deal," I said, when I reached the New York accent again. And I came clean. I was up a creek without a paddle, but, Honest!, the money will be there tomorrow.

Another, longer, pause.

"Listen, honey," she said, "here's what I'm going to do" And so Joelene, or Joellyne, or Jolynne (I never could get her name quite right) saved my bacon by giving me a three-day grace period before she attempted, for the record, to debit my account and pay my bill. And true to my word, the money arrived and nobody but the two of us was ever the wiser.

Once again, I was the recipient of a random act of kindness by someone I'm never likely to meet. That accounts receivable woman didn't have to cut me any slack. She could have argued, called her boss with whom I'd contracted to do business, made a big stink. She didn't. Because, on her own initiative, she gave me the benefit of a doubt, my credibility and credit stayed good with a company I plan to work with for years to come.

A few days later, at the gas station where the attendants are usually surly and mad at the mechanic, one of them washed my windows. In this self-service age it was strictly a volunteer act. "Thanks very much," I said, surprise clearly in my voice. "You're welcome," he said, and smiled. "It's nicer to do it when nobody asks." Then he also washed the side mirrors and the hatchback window. Wow! Another random act of kindness.

Which got me to thinking about how I behave toward strangers. Not very well, I'm afraid. Hey, it's my turn! Excuse me, but I was here first! That dollar bill on the floor must have fallen out of my purse, not hers.

I received a poem from MacKenzie for Christmas. We don't know who wrote it but if you're out there, thanks a lot. It will grace the refrigerator all year long as a reminder that random acts of kindness are not just for holidays:

"When the song of the angels is stilled, when the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and princes are home, when the shepherds are back with the flocks,
The work of Christmas begins;
To find the lost, to heal the broken,
To feed the hungry, to release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations, to bring peace among peoples,
To make music with the heart."

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