I don't know her name, but she's Marsha in my head.
Marsha is the best damn crossing guard this world has ever seen.
Every school day, she dances cars where they need to be. She sings, points, laughs, smiles, waves. You can't help but smile and wave back, and sometimes laugh at her themed outfit of the day.
There's a line of folks who, I'm sure, take this route even though it's not the most efficient, just so they can watch Marsha at work.
There's something beautiful about someone fully committed to doing their best at a job that the world doesn't normally notice.
It might seem insignificant in the grand scheme of the world, but Marsha's brightened that striped rectangle of earth.
That crosswalk is in good hands. Hands that care.
Nina owns the 200 square feet of Walmart known as the self-checkout.
At first, I thought she was mean. Bossy, at the very least.
But eventually I realized she simply cared more about those 12 terminals than some lousy parents do for their kids.
At 10am on a Saturday, you know when Nina's on shift. Not only because you can hear her way over in produce, but because, no matter how busy it is, that line moves.
No matter how quickly you jump on Number 43 being open, Nina saw it before you and is already pointing you that way.
Bags don't run out. She notices your bottle of wine and makes sure she's handy and ready to scan your ID. I've seen someone accidentally scan something twice, and before they could process what the error was, she'd already cleared it because she'd watched it happen from three terminals away. (Okay fine, it was me. Maybe twice.)
I've never talked to Nina beyond the minimum requirements of courtesy, but there's something about Nina being on duty that's simultaneously stressful and reassuring.
It might be a little intimidating, but that self-checkout is in good hands. Hands that care.
Danny cleans the school and office, twice a week, very slowly.
He wears a back brace now, and he's always the last one there.
An immaculate floor, fifteen feet at a time, with a break in between to set the mop down and rest.
Windows that you didn't even know were dirty, clean enough to do surgery on.
The tiniest speck of dust on a shelf, disappeared.
Every trash bag snugged down and tied off perfectly.
Clean is clean, and the final result might be the same, on paper. But there's something about a place after Danny's been in there.
He might not be the fastest, or the most efficient, but that office & school are in good hands. Hands that care.
Someday, Marsha will retire, if she isn't already.
Someday Nina will retire, again.
Someday, Danny won't come in.
I'll notice.
I promise.