Well Done

The "Captain" in my story is fictional--though I gave him the name of a kid I've known since the day he was born--but the guy in this picture is a true-life hero who saved a woman's life earlier this year.  Read about it here; his story is better than mine and it's true!  It's the exactly the sort of thing Captain would have done.

He pulls into the parking lot on his street bike just as the sun is disappearing over the horizon.  He strides across the pavement, ready to do battle.  He picks up his head-set, fits it carefully, checks in.  Moments later, he's off and flying and right in the thick of it.

Almost immediately he discovers Thompson is in trouble--again.  Poor guy, new on the force, typically gets flustered any time things go sideways.  And things always go sideways.

"I got this," he says and dives in.

"How can I help you?" he asks the irate woman in the purple velour track suit.

"I asked for no ketchup, no tomato and this thing is gotta bunch of ketchup on it!"

"I'm so sorry about that, ma'am."

"Yeah, that's what he said. I don't need no sorry, what I need is my burger done right!"

"I understand, ma'am.  We're gonna get that taken care of for you right now. And let me throw in a $10 gift card for your trouble."

"Ten bucks ain't gonna make up for my lost time at work, waitin' on you all to do your job right," she gripes, but he can tell by the softening in her face that she's pleased with the offer.  "Make sure he don't spit in my burger cause he mad," she adds.

"I'll make the burger myself, ma'am," he calls over his shoulder, as he wheels away from the counter and moves smoothly into the kitchen.  It appears Fountain has called in sick again. He'll have to do it all himself.  He checks the monitor, and sees three orders waiting.  It's not a problem. He reaches into the freezer, knocks loose a quartet of frozen patties, puts them on the grill,  and then lowers the press.  He makes a pass of the line, swiping off scraps of lettuce, tomato, and pickle in one graceful motion.  He arrives at the pick up window and sees an order for a large sweet tea on the monitor.  He puts the 32 oz cup under the dispenser, and hits the button to dispense the sweet, brown liquid.  He hears a harsh jangling at three o clock, and turns to find Gray struggling with the deep fryer again.  He moves in to assist, gives the potato-filled basket a brisk jerk and sinks it into the vat of boiling oil with a gratifying crackle.

In seconds he's back at the pick-up window.  He picks up the full tea, pops a lid on it, both wipes and wraps the cup with a single paper napkin and hands it to the Hodge who is manning the pick-up window. 

"Thanks, Captain," she smiles.  He flashes his trademark, jaunty grin, nods and is off, back to the grill where the patties are done.  He pops them on to the line, and Lavalas swings up to help him put the sandwiches together.  His movements are quick, but precise: cheese slice melting on the hot patty,  pickle slices, a pinch of onion slivers, and a shot of mustard.  He wraps the piping hot sandwich in foil, gives the work surface a quick wipe.  Then he snaps open a sack with a sharp crack and slips the quarter pounder in. 

"Ma'am here's your quarter pounder with cheese, no ketchup," he says with his trademark smile. "Give me a second and I'll get your gift card ready."

"You're fine," the woman in the purple velour tracksuit replies.  She is charmed.  In a few seconds he's loaded $10 on a gift card, placed it in it's own little envelope, and handed it to the woman.  "Thank you!" she says completely mollified.  "Now that's what I call service," she declares to her friend as they exit. 

He allows himself a brief moment of satisfaction, and then his headset comes alive.

"Captain, the ice cream machine is down again," Lavalas reports.

"I'm on it," he says, and heads back into the fray.

Some will say that he just works at McDonald's.  Some will say that he's just eighteen years old.  But the guy they call Noah at school, but who they call the Captain under the golden arches, understands this truth, even if he might not be able to articulate it: Excellence is not found only on the athletic field.  Greatness is not found only in the battle. Brilliance is not found only in the ivy league laboratory. Creativity is not found only on the stage.  These things are found anywhere a job is well done.