The power of gratitude

Seems petty, but it left an acid sensation in the back of the palate.

I was walking past the entranceway to the police station garage on Willow Street when a flat deck, driven by a policeman presumably, had to stop exiting the station’s underground carpark to let me continue my passage along the footpath.

Either he thought I didn’t have right of way and/or he resented having to stop. Because after I passed he yelled out the window, “Thank you very much for stopping, no, no, you are welcome” – or words to that effect – in a sarcastic authoritarian tone before accelerating away. Perhaps he didn’t hear my piqued response which could have got myself arrested.

No, I didn’t acknowledge your giving way to a pedestrian, no, I didn’t genuflect in gratitude or even say thank you. Was it required? I am sorry for inconveniencing you. Either you can accept a belated thank you, or it’s my turn to stop next time.

I Goldsmith, Bureta.


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