Menches Shake Hands

*There is no word for female menches.

A hundred years ago I was at the library we used in New York, when I witnessed a fight. A couple was there, an old man had done something to upset the woman, and the husband was screaming at the old man. It upset me, and apparently, stayed with me. I love the library, and I want everyone to be in their happy place when they're in my happy place. These were grown adults! And the younger guy was threatening to beat up the old man! How could it be that adults couldn't resolve whatever the problem was, verbally? 

On Saturday I went to Trader Joe's after volunteering. I was standing near the strawberries when I became aware of a man with a little girl around the age of five standing behind me. Another man had gone up to him, and there was a weird tension in the air, which I think is what made me notice them.

Apparently the father cut the other guy off in the parking lot, and the response the father got was a finger and some screaming. The guy had come over to apologize. Except that in the midst of apologizing he tried to justify why he'd done what he had. The father tried to thank the guy for apologizing while also defending what he'd done too.

It could have dissolved at that point. Magically, they somehow managed to come back around to the fact that one guy walked over to apologize, and the father was able to appreciate this and even apologized for his part, and they shook hands. I was pleased.

While at work today I called the leasing office to inquire after my sink, and mentioned to the guy how upsetting it was to be accused of having caused the problem. He assured me they knew I hadn't caused it, and in fact had figured out what went wrong and how to fix it. He apologized that I'd been accused, and I thanked him for that.

Tonight I got home from work to find that my bathroom was fixed. The pipe had been repaired. The floor was cleaned of sludge. They even noticed loose tiles in my shower and repaired those. Grossly, they'd put the basket of tampons and makeup bags that had gotten sludge on them back into the cabinet under the sink. But. Still. The sludge was gone. I wet-Swiftered the floor, and cleaned the sink with my cleaning stuff.

A little after 8 p.m. there was a knock at my door. It was Ole' Nudey. He told me he was here to apologize that he'd made me feel like he thought I'd caused the pipe to burst. That he knew I hadn't. Ole' Nudey looked nervous. I thanked him for saying that, and added that emotions were running high yesterday, from being surprised with such a big, unexpected mess, and I was sorry too, if I'd taken out my frustration on him. Ole' Nudey thanked me back, and reiterated his sorries. I thought of the Trader Joe's guys, and promptly realized I should offer to shake Ole' Nudey's hand. He's like 70, and very old school, so exactly the type of guy who would see significant meaning in a hand shake. I stuck my hand out and smiled. We shook hands, and I wished him a good night. He wished me a good night. Then Ole' Nudey walked off, towards his apartment, where I assume he got naked.

The Church of Later Day Saints and banks always do commercials about paying kindnesses forward. Nobody's ever done a commercial about apologizing, or accepting an apology. They should. The Trader Joe's guys helped me.