I had entered a flower shop to buy bouquets for my wife and my daughter. I had already picked one when I suddenly noticed an old man near the entrance.
An old-fashioned coat, trousers with a sharp crease, simple shoes, and a plain shirt under the coat.
He didn’t look homeless. He was simply poor. But at the same time, he appeared surprisingly neat and dignified.
A young saleswoman walked up to him. She didn’t even look at him and immediately said:
— What are you doing here, grandpa? You’re bothering the customers.
The old man didn’t protest. He simply said quietly:
— Excuse me, miss… How much is a sprig of mimosa?
The saleswoman replied, annoyed:
— Are you serious? I can see you don’t have any money. Why are you even asking?
The old man pulled three crumpled ten-euro bills out of his pocket and asked timidly:
— Maybe… is there something for thirty euros?
The saleswoman looked at the money, sneered, and pulled out from a basket a nearly wilted mimosa — broken, dull.
— Here, take this. And get out now.
The old man gently took the branch and tried thoughtfully to straighten it. At that moment, I saw a tear roll down his cheek, and his face showed such despair that it tore at my heart.
I felt enormous sorrow for this old man, and I decided to teach this rude and arrogant saleswoman a lesson.
The rest in the first comment 👇👇
I walked up to the saleswoman, feeling anger rising inside me:
— Do you even realize what you’re doing?
She turned toward me and turned pale. She went silent.
— How much for the entire basket? — I asked her.
— What? Well… about two hundred euros, I think — she muttered.
I pulled out the money, handed it to her, took the basket of bouquets, and gave it to the old man.
— Here, take it. You deserve it. Wish your wife a happy birthday.
The old man stood there, unable to believe his eyes. He smiled gently. Tears were still flowing, but he still clutched that broken branch in his hands.
— Come with me — I said to him.
We went into the shop next door. I bought a cake and a good bottle of wine.
The old man was still there, holding his bouquet in his arms.
— Grandpa — I said — don’t worry. I have money. And you have a wife you love. Make her happy.
He nodded, unable to hold back his tears.
— We’ve been together for forty-five years… She’s sick… But how could I show up without flowers for her birthday? Thank you, my boy…
