By Charissa Bates 
“Thanks for being kind to me,” a teenager tells me at the fast food restaurant window as he hands me a bag of food that wasn’t what I originally wanted. A few minutes earlier, I had asked for the restaurant’s signature item.
“I’m sorry, we’re out of that,” the drive-thru operator said. This signature item made up half their menu. He continued, “May I interest you in a chicken sandwich? They’re excellent.”
After pondering the menu a bit more, I asked for a lemonade and mozzarella sticks.
“Ma’am, I’m very sorry, but our lemonade machine isn’t working,” the attendant said.
“Okay, I’ll just take the chicken sandwich, mozzarella sticks, and water.” I was ready to hit the road and willing to take whatever quick meal they had.
There was a pause before the operator spoke again. “I hate to say this, but we’re out of the mozzarella sauce, too.”
“No problem,” I said quickly, driving up to the window. I handed my credit card to a boy around 15 years old working the cash register.
“Thanks for being kind to me. Not many people have been today,” he said. His words made me pause. Up until that moment, I had been a little frustrated with the lack of menu options, but hearing him, I realized he had no control over the situation. I simply smiled and said, “No problem,” then paid and drove away.
While unwrapping my chicken sandwich down the road, I reflected on his comment. He had no influence over the availability of the items that night, yet he seemed to be taking the blame for it.
A few weeks later, after a long day visiting someone at the hospital, I drove up to a different fast-food restaurant. Ahead of me was a long drive home, and I had been visiting the hospital frequently, so a stack of coupons had accumulated in my car console. I picked one that offered a sandwich, cookie, and drink—trying to save a little money on my frequent trips.
I ordered my meal and mentioned the coupon to the operator. When I pulled up to the window, a teenage girl was working. I handed her the coupon along with my credit card.
She called over another employee to help, and I overheard him say, “It isn’t scanning,” to which she replied, “What can we do?” He simply shrugged and said, “I don’t know. It won’t work.”
Through the cracked window, I heard her say, “But I feel bad.” The other employee walked away, and she slowly opened the window to tell me the coupon wasn’t working.
Determined to stay within my budget, I asked if we could try another coupon. Again, she struggled, and with a shy smile, she told me that one wasn’t working either.
She gave me the full price of the meal and asked if I still wanted it. I glanced at the soda can in my car and said I’d be fine with just water and the sandwich, joking that I didn’t really need the cookies anyway. She apologized twice more and went off to make my sandwich.
Thirty minutes later, I was back on the road. Sleepily, I pulled the sandwich from the bag and noticed a surprise: a bag of cookies with a smiley face drawn in sharpie. At that moment, I realized how rewarding it is to be kind to these teenagers working at fast-food restaurants. They aren’t in control of what ingredients are in stock, and they certainly can’t help if a coupon doesn’t work. But they’re working hard and have shown me, time and again, their kind hearts.
by Whitney Fleming 
by Meg Duncan 
