I hadn’t ever been on the road to sell my Happiness Cards, but last month an article about me and my cards appeared in the Ukiah Daily Journal. I needed to find a retail store or two where people who read the article could buy the cards without going to my website. Today was the day.
My destination was our county seat and largest town, Ukiah, a 90 minute drive from Ft. Bragg. I enjoy the drive as it’s through forest on a very twisty 2 lane road. I used to make the trip fairly often as one of my sons and 2 grandchildren lived in Willits, a small town on the way. On one of my visits I counted the curves on one section of the road – 77 significant curves in 7 miles, a nightmare for anyone with a queasy stomach.
I made my usual restroom stop at the McDonald’s in Willits. The music that I expected inside the store has been introduced at even greater decibels, into the bathrooms. No longer can one pee in peace. But who am I to complain? It’s a handy distance from home and usually clean, if noisy.
The clerks I met in the stores were friendly and glad to see me. It was a quiet day, and I think they welcomed any activity, even if it was an old lady trying to sell something. When I pulled out my stack of Happiness Cards to offer them one, the reaction was delight. Made my day.
Upon the recommendation of one of my contacts I had lunch at an Asian Fusion place. Not sure what that means, but I like most Asian food, and the music was blessedly unobtrusive.
The vegetarian, gluten-free Pad Thai salad with tofu sounded interesting, (I can just hear my sons laughing or making retching noises) but I kept looking for the tofu. No way I could tell the server it was missing as she abandoned me for tables with multiple diners who were ordering drinks from the bar. She finally pranced over to me to present me with a bill that was $4 too high. Oh, my. She and the manager tripped all over each other to apologize. I know servers often take the flack for meals-gone-wrong so I left her a big tip and a Happiness Card.
I stopped for gasoline on my way home. When I slid my credit card into the appropriate slot, music kicked in (not my kind, either) along with ads on the screen (Screens with ads and loud music on a gasoline pump? How crazy is that?) but no way to pay for the gas that I could see. So I took my card into the office, or whatever it’s called, handed it to the man behind the register and was told, “It’s a dime more a gallon if you use a credit card.” Really?
I returned to the car to retrieve some cash and pumped $20 worth of gas, enough to get me home in the quiet confines of my Toyota. Not a bad day.