Fed

I popped into a local store today to shop for a light. Standing among and under walls and ceilings packed with light fixtures, I didn't know which way to turn. So I looked up, which caught the eye of a sales associate. He walked over to me and asked, looking for lights? My motion had given it away.

This man was attentive yet gave me just the right amount of space to browse. He wasn't a hovering sales associate desperate to make a sale. He was calm in offering friendly service.

I wandered and meandered through a maze of lights of all shapes and sizes and prices and colors. Brilliance was everywhere.

When I noticed a light I liked, the associate would look up the additional information not listed on the price tag. Finish options. Measurements. Availability.

He went above and beyond the highest customer service standards, even though I wasn't expecting it. I didn't ask for it. I was delighted with the surprise of his goodness.

We started talking about other things. Lights. Work. Hometowns (we grew up thirty minutes from each other). Places we've lived. Lights. Where we live now (blocks from each other). Winter. Sleepy towns. Lights. Interests. Art. Endeavors. Lights. Creativity. Photography. Writing. Lights. Art galleries. Artists. The hunger for inspiration.

He gave me printouts of the lights I liked so I could take them home and think things over. We walked each other to the door. I told him I'd be in touch and come back in soon. I was late picking up a curb-side lunch order for my son and me. But I realized I wasn't hungry because I had dined among the lights. The conversation, kindness and ease of my new friend fed me. I was pleasantly full.

Until,

Marie