Celebrating Life at a Gas Station Food Mart

How a service station clerk proves that our happiness is no one else's job but our own

Photo by Pixabay

A buddy and I were recently traveling north on IL-84 along the Mississippi River on a golden early evening as the sun set over the water producing a velvety orange glow just above the riverbank trees. We were in a good mood after a day of golf and good conversation as we headed toward Galena, Illinois.

Both of us were thirsty but this stretch of the road was populated only by small farms and tiny towns where the businesses had already closed for the day. At a lonely crossroads, we spotted a Shell station with a food mart attached. We grabbed a small packet of snickerdoodle cookies, a diet Coke, and a vitamin water and placed it all on the counter.

“Well, how you all doin’ tonight?” the clerk said with confidence and an overwhelming sense of urgency. He was about thirty-five years old, wore an English-style newsboy cap, and a big smile. Not to mention a black eye patch over his left eye, like a pirate. “It’s a great night for some snacks, right?”

“You’re in a very good mood,” my buddy said.

“You bet I am. It’s just a great night. Always is, you know. I love my job.”

Most clerks in lonely gas stations appear to be beaten down by the world, uninterested, uninspired, borderline depressed.

“If I were any happier,” he said, “I’d be illegal.” He flashed another smile.

“That’s great,” I said. “Why do you think that is?” I asked as he scanned our purchases.

“Why not? I’m here helping you. It’s a beautiful sunset. What could be better?”

My buddy and I couldn’t help smiling.

“That’s an interesting name you have there,” my buddy said, glancing at his name tag. “Is that . . . Derf? D-E-R-F. How does one get a name like that?”

“Ah, I just printed it out backward,” he laughed. For fun, for a conversation starter, for his own amusement, it seemed. “I’m really Fred,” he said, almost winking.

He laid out a plastic bag on the counter and my buddy began to put our items inside.

“Hey, come on, man. That’s my job,” Derf chortled. “You’re gonna take away my duties here.” He was playful and animated.

“You are one happy guy, Derf,” my buddy said.

“Gotta be, right? I appreciate you. You have a fantastic night, now. Drive safe out there.”

On the way back to the car, my buddy and I were still smiling. We looked at each other and I wondered aloud, “Wasn’t that delightful? Not what you usually get in a lonely gas station food mart on a Saturday night.”

“Do you get the sense, maybe, that old Derf back there doesn’t really need that eye patch?” my buddy mused. “He’s the kind of guy that might just do it for show. Like, if you asked him, ‘What happened to your eye?’ he’d pull it off and start laughing.”

The perfectly good eye of a prankster.

Over the next day or two, Derf frequently returned to our minds. And over recent days I’ve thought even more about Derf and how he was showing us the way, especially as we get older and the days that remain are fewer than the ones in our past. How does one stay on the positive side of life, the upside of the world?

For Derf, you see, happiness appeared to have nothing to do with his lot in life, his salary, his work hours, or even his name. Happiness was about how he moved in the world. Take what it offers you and embrace it. Accept that happiness is a work in progress and the first job is to believe you can and will be happy, that you can be joyous even if you’re making minimum wage at a Shell station in the middle of nowhere.

“There is no path to happiness; happiness is the path.” —Buddha

Some might say that happiness is unattainable. That it’s a ghost we chase. I’d like to think happiness is not a destination but a way of being. And that once you know and practice this, you can be like Derf. You can offer happiness to all you encounter.

I would like to think that Derf is always this way, but I’m sure he, too, has had the occasional off day where he struggles to keep up the good fight. Still, think about what he did for my buddy and me. How he brightened a moment for us, how he remained with us for hours and days, how his unexpected infectious spirit transformed us, even in the smallest of ways.

Wherever you are tonight, Derf, thank you. I hope you remain as happy as ever, even if it’s illegal.

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David W. Berner is the author of the forthcoming memoir Daylight Saving Time: The Power of Growing Older, and the author of several award-winning books of fiction and personal narrative.