To help save money for the wedding, I got a little weekend job at KFC. I still have my full time job but Hubby spends the weekend watching sport so all I was going to miss was cleaning. I like KFC - it's like playing shop when you are 4 years old. I get to go to work and have a laugh with kids who are younger than Beautiful B and have a great time serving customers.
Having moved into Accountancy I miss the customer contact I used to have when working on the front line where I spoke to customers all day so KFC gives me the opportunity to feel like I am making someones day better. It is amazing how many regular customers we have at KFC; though why I am surprised I do not know - Hubby spends a whole shifts worth of my pay on KFC food each week. No we don't get it free and it really can't be good for Hubby's health...
Anyhoo; there is a little old man who comes into KFC each night. He has a walker and it honestly takes him 5 minutes to walk from the door to the counter. He always has a small fries, large fries, tub of beans and a coffee but he has the coffee after he has eaten. It takes him an hour to eat his food and I have taken to going to the door and helping him sit down and then fetch his food to him. He is almost skeletal thin and one does wonder whether it is the only meal he gets all day.
Now I talk for England - of course you haven't noticed this ;-) so I have twittered about this little old man to Hubby and Beautiful B because I find him very sweet and I am honestly in awe of him - to come in KFC each night when he struggles to walk the way he does is some level of determination and I am not sure that I would have it in his position.
Last weekend he didn't come into KFC. I commented on it and wondered if he was ill. Beautiful B came home from work at the hospital on Monday and the conversation went like this:
BB: Mum, what does that little old man eat at KFC?
Me: Small fries, large fries, beans and coffee - why?
BB: Is he thin with longish hair?
Me: Yes, why?
BB: I think he is on my ward. He had a fall and I heard him talking to the Drs and all he could talk about was KFC and what he ate there. He takes ages to eat his dinner so it must be the same little old man.
Me: Bless. Yes it must be him, I can't imagine many people would eat the same meal each day. Does he have any visitors?
BB: No, he has been in since Thursday night with no-one.
So I messaged Hubby:
Me: You are going to think I am mad but long story short; the little old man from KFC is in BB's ward and has no visitors so I am going to see him. All I can think of is that I wouldn't want your mum in hospital without visitors.
Hubby: No, I do not think you are mad, I think your heart is huge and there is too much love for just your family.
So, I went to visit the little old man who is called John but prefers Jack. I spent an hour and a half with him and he talked and talked and talked because he rarely has visitors at home and from the conversation it was evident that the only visitors he has are district nurses and carers.
Poor Jack visited KFC on the Thursday night and then went home. He lost the grip on his walker which started to slide down a small slope and his automatic reaction was to reach for it. Except, he cannot stand unaided so down he went. When he landed "he knew his hip had gone" - what a way to say that he knew he had broken his hip - anyone else would say that it was agony.
Poor Jack lay there in the dark and rain for 2 hours before some young boys saw him and called an ambulance. I dread to think what was going through his head during those 2 hours!
Hubby has visited Jack with me since my first visit and called him "Sir" which I found so sweet. Poor Jack is 80 and partially sighted so when I took some Tropicana fruit juice to him, remembering he had taken some home from KFC once and said the following evening he liked it, I had to explain what it was.
I find Jack inspirational. At 80, he has a determination for life which is rarely seen. You can tell from the conversation how scared he must have been at 18 when the war was on and his conscription was extended by 6 months. You can tell how upset he is at losing his sister following a fall down a drain in her garden because some thiefs had stolen the manhole cover to sell the iron. You can tell how he physically struggles each day yet he does daily exercises to try and keep his back, stomach and arms strong to compensate for his legs.
I think I may be in the wrong job. I certainly think that I should quit KFC and volunteer as a carer. I only hope that I have the same zest and determination for life when I am his age.