Jessie had always believed that kindness went a long way. But on her first day as a waitress at the busy local restaurant, she was about to be tested in ways she never expected.
“Alright, Jessie. Since you’re the new girl, you get table 13,” her coworker, Mark, announced as she tied her apron and prepared for the lunchtime rush.
Jessie glanced at table 13, determined to impress on her first day. There sat an old man, hunched over, scowling at the menu as if it had personally offended him.
“That guy?” she asked, puzzled. “He looks harmless.”
Mark chuckled and shook his head. “Oh, honey. Mr. Norton is a nightmare. No one here likes to serve him.”
Jessie lifted her chin. “I can handle anything.”
Mark smirked. “We’ll see about that.”
With confidence, Jessie approached the table. “Good afternoon, sir! My name’s Jessie. What would you like to drink today?”
Mr. Norton barely looked up. “Ugh. Another new one. I always get the same thing, and you lot ask me every time. Iced tea. Not too cold. Not too sweet. Two lemon wedges. And a straw.”
Jessie nodded. “Got it. And do you know what you’d like to eat?”
“Not yet. Now go away and bring me my iced tea!” he snapped.
Jessie’s eyebrows twitched, but she forced a smile. “Right away, sir.”
She prepared the iced tea exactly as he requested, but when she placed it in front of him, he took one sip and grimaced. “Too sweet!” he barked.
Jessie took the glass back and remade it, only for him to complain that it was now too cold. The next one didn’t have enough lemon juice. The next one had a flimsy paper straw.
“We only have paper straws now,” she said through clenched teeth after making his fourth drink.
“Stupid, softy generation,” he grumbled. “Fine! Give me the lasagna.” He shoved the menu at her chest.
Jessie inhaled deeply but didn’t let her smile slip. She would not let one cranky old man ruin her first day.
The lasagna wasn’t up to his standards, either. He complained about the sauce, the portion size, and even the plate it was served on. By the time he finished eating, she had served six other families around him. But, to her surprise, he still left a tip.
“I should’ve listened,” she muttered to Mark as they closed up for the night.
Mark chuckled. “Yup. But someone’s gotta deal with him.”
Jessie went home exhausted. She barely had the energy to kiss her five kids goodnight before collapsing into bed. Her husband, Bob, worked crazy hours to provide for their family, and she had taken this job to help out. Her mother watched the younger kids while she worked, but Jessie still wished she had more time with them.
Every night, she promised herself she’d play with them tomorrow. But tomorrow was always just as hard as today.
Days turned into weeks, then months. Then years.
Jessie continued serving Mr. Norton, becoming the only waitress who could tolerate his never-ending complaints. Over time, she learned his quirks. She prepared his tea just right on the first try, and she knew when to ignore his grumbles and when to humor him. Sometimes, he’d surprise her by asking about her life.
And no matter how much he complained, he always left a solid 15% tip. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
Then, one day, everything changed.
Jessie approached his table as usual, expecting another long meal full of nitpicking and gripes. But this time, there was no money on the table. Instead, there was a key and a folded note.
Frowning, she picked it up and read aloud:
“Dear Jessie,
Thank you for putting up with this old grump for so long. I’m going to a hospice now, so I won’t be back. This is the key to my house. It’s yours. My lawyer’s card is inside so you can arrange everything officially.
Goodbye, dear.
P.S. My tea was too sweet today, but I didn’t complain. See? My time is coming.”
Jessie’s hands trembled as she reread the words. He was giving her his house? Why?
She knew he had a family. Why wouldn’t they take it?
Jessie contacted the lawyer and got the address of the hospice facility. She had to see Mr. Norton one last time. When she arrived, she barely recognized him. He looked so frail, so small, lying in that bed.
“The note… Is it real?” she asked softly.
He managed a weak smirk. “It’s real.”
“But why? What about your children?”
His smile faded. “My children hate me. Haven’t seen or heard from them in years. I was grumpy to everyone my whole life. The only person who ever treated me with kindness, despite my attitude, was you. That house is too big for an old man. But for a big family like yours? It’s perfect.”
Jessie felt tears spill down her cheeks. She had spent years dealing with his bad moods, but now, the thought of never seeing him again crushed her. He had been alone for so long. And now, he was dying alone.
That weekend, she brought her children to visit him. When they arrived, something happened that she had never seen before—Mr. Norton smiled.
He passed away a few weeks later. Jessie inherited his house, and to her surprise, his entire estate. His lawyer told her that his family wanted nothing to do with it.
The house was beautiful. It wasn’t filled with riches, but it was big, with enough space for her children to have their own rooms. It was the first time they didn’t have to share.
Life slowly got better. Jessie and Bob earned promotions at work, making things a little easier. And in Mr. Norton’s honor, Jessie started volunteering at the local senior center, bringing her children along. She paid special attention to the grumpy old folks, knowing that behind their scowls were stories no one had taken the time to hear.
She had learned something valuable:
Some older people need as much patience as children. And being kind, even when it’s hard, can change your life in ways you never expect.
