About ten years ago, I was working as a waiter in a modest restaurant. We offered a basic set lunch, nothing fancy, just
affordable comfort food. One afternoon, an elderly man came in. He looked tired, maybe a little worn down by life. He ask
ed how much the lunch was, then sighed heavily and turned to leave. Something about him stopped me. Maybe it was the look
in his eyes—dignified, but defeated. I couldn’t just watch him walk out hungry.
So I asked him to sit down and told the kitchen to serve him the lunch special. I paid for it myself. Later,
my manager found out. He wasn’t happy. “You’ll start a trend,” he warned me. “If word gets out, people will come expecting
handouts.” I understood his concern, but honestly, I didn’t regret it.
The man had needed help, and I had done what I thought was right,
