Sometimes an Act of Kindness Is Sweeter Than Cake

I wasn’t planning on going to McDonald’s that day.
Honestly? I had my sights set on Starbucks—thought I’d sneak in a little caffeine and quiet before diving into work. But when I got there, the place had been downsized into a kind of ghost kiosk. No tables. No chairs. No drive-thru. Just… a window and a shrug.

So I walked.
Up the block. Into a golden arches I hadn’t stepped foot in for years.

Nobody was at the counter.

Then, from the back, she appeared.

A sweet older woman—early eighties, maybe—about 5' 2" shuffling gently but with purpose. She smiled as she took my order, like the kind of person who always smiles when she takes your order. Let’s call her Bee.

I found a booth, unpacked my gear—keyboard, mouse, earbuds, the whole tech tangle—and got to work. A young guy brought my tray. I thanked him, nodded, and buried myself in the screen.

Then… movement.

Bee had reappeared with a broom and dustpan.
Not like a teenager just punching the clock. No. Like someone who meant it.

She swept the entire dining area with quiet precision. I looked up. She wasn’t checking her phone. She wasn’t hurrying. Just moving from table to table, corner to corner, like the work deserved her full attention.

Next, trays. Leftovers. Trash bins emptied.

Then mopping.

Safety signs out. Full sweep of the place.
I hadn’t seen work ethic like that in a while—and never in a fast food joint before 9 a.m.

Eventually, I started to pack up. Devices tucked away, wires wrapped, the spell of the screen broken.

As I approached the door, there she was.
Finishing her final pass with the mop.

I said, “Excuse me…”

She turned toward me. Bright-eyed. Standing tall despite the years.
“Yes, may I help you?” she asked, cheerful as ever.

I looked at her. Really looked.

“Are you the owner?”

She blinked. “Heavens no!”

I smiled and said:
“Well, you certainly are working like one.”

And I meant it. Every syllable.

She laughed. And then… she smiled.

The kind of smile that breaks something open in you.
A smile that makes you remember you’re still human—even on your busiest days.
A smile that says this is how the world heals itself—quietly, mop in hand.

I said, “How is it that such a beautiful young lady winds up working in a place like this?”

“At my age,” she said, “it’s important to keep moving—so I might as well get paid for it!”

I smiled and replied, “Well, that’s so true. I see you’re wearing good shoes this morning—and that’s important, because these hard concrete floors can be rough on the hips over time.”

She nodded, still smiling. “Yes. So important! Thank you so much.”

And just like that, I left.
But not really.

Because that smile?
It followed me out the door.

There’s hustle. And then there’s heart. Bee had both.

May we all leave behind something that clean. Something that kind.

~Elise
Empathy in the Wild