Peanuts In My Pocket

A Story from My Day

I drew the short straw and had to run up to Panda Express to pick up lunch for my wife and grandsons today. Actually—there was no short straw. I was volunteered. I didn’t mind.

Throughout my life, I’ve struggled to maintain a friendly outward persona. My family sent me on this lunch run while I was deep in thought, researching an article. I drove there on autopilot, my mind sorting through disorganized information, searching for a missing piece to a difficult puzzle. My face was blank—or, as my friends call it, I was wearing my resting angry face.

My first encounter, which should have tipped me off, was with a handyman in the parking lot. He hadn’t seen me while backing up, so I stepped into his field of view. He stopped until I was clear. As I passed his work truck, we exchanged glances. He gasped and quickly said, “I am so sorry. I didn’t see you. No harm done, right?”

Still distracted, I shrugged and said, “Sure.”

Inside a nearly empty Panda Express, a young man and his daughter were ordering at the counter. I attempted to walk behind them, but the man suddenly stepped backward, nearly colliding with me. I put a hand out to gently guide him away and said, “Sorry, excuse me.”

His daughter looked up at me, then quickly stepped behind her dad for protection. Her father turned, puffed out his chest, and gave me a wary glance before moving aside to let me pass. Confused, I glanced over my shoulder, thinking maybe someone was behind me. Nope. The dad then said, “I don’t want a problem, mister.”

I nodded and walked around them. The little girl never took her eyes off me.

As I waited for my order, the clerk behind the counter looked at me and asked, “Are you okay?”

That’s when it hit me. I mentally kicked myself. I’m an old dude now—I figured my scary Viking madman days were over.

“Nah… I’m good, thanks,” I said.

I plastered on my best friendly smile and did my best to blend into the wall.

As I was leaving, a disheveled homeless man pushing a bike crossed my path. This time, I remembered to smile. I decided to break the ice by saying, “Hi.”

His face lit up. “You see me? That’s so cool.”

I told him he was hard to miss and smiled again. Then I asked if he was hungry.

He shook his head. “No, but I like that you took the time to say hi.”

I figured my resting angry face had disappeared at that point. I drove home wearing a big smile—at least until I started thinking again.