We’ve lived in Charles Town now for a dozen years and we are always amazed at how easy it is to do things. It is not just the compact nature of the geography when nothing is more than a few miles away; it is more about the interactions with the people that set this place apart from anywhere else we have lived. Ellensburg Washington comes close, but here it is so unexpected. Everyone we encounter is unfailingly polite and if they’re meant to be doing something for us (as opposed to just crossing paths in the aisle or whatever) they are extremely competent.
The other day in preparation for our trip to Florida last Saturday, I went into the bank to get a few hundred dollars. The place was empty so I just walked up to the first teller and said I needed to withdraw money from my account. I asked for the form to fill out and the teller just said, “Oh, that isn’t necessary, we know who you are, Mr. Byxbee.” He counted out the money, had me sign for it and I was off. No forms, no ID, no checking balances, just in and out. And I had not recognized HIM; it’s not like he was my usual teller!
I needed to get a new tank of propane so I drove for three minutes to the 7Eleven and went in to pay for it. The young female clerk - who should have used the money she spent on tattoos for some major dental work - yelled to the boss that she was going out for a propane exchange. It was 95 degrees outside and as we went to the cage she said it was so hot the soles of her shoes were melting. This ninety-pound wonder then opened the cage, grabbed a new tank from the top, and with one hand pulled it down, did a pirouette, and perfectly and softly placed it at my feet. I was amazed at the strength and grace this young woman exhibited in doing something so mundane.
I had mistakenly grabbed a low-fat yogurt instead of a non-fat yogurt the other day while shopping. The next day I returned it to the customer service area where the ‘associate’ asked me for my receipt. Before I could say that I didn’t have one, the manager came out, said hello to me and said to the young man, “Mr. Byxbee doesn’t need a receipt to return something.” Just as easy as that.
Lastly, we have been going to the same dry cleaner since we moved here 12 years ago. There I am known as Mr. Emmans since Cindy was here for six months before me and I saw no reason to confuse them. I went in yesterday and the clerk, who is always watching 1960s reruns of black and white westerns, said, “Mr. Emmans, I just can’t get used to you driving anything but that maroon Explorer. I would have had your clothes right here but you just kinda surprised me again with that new red car. I’m goin’ to have to remember that car!” We’ve had the red car for one year!
Like I said, the pleasures of small town living. Best to all, Cindy and Wm
