Where AM I?

Daryl and I ran all of those annoying new-to-the-area errands yesterday. He changed our insurance from NJ to TN. We got new driver's licenses. We sat in some traffic (yeah, still figuring out when and where rush hour occurs in these here parts).

We were surprised to find out that the place where you get your new driver's license (the "Department of Safety," which, from the name, I would assume is where they inspect restaurants for health violations, but apparently is not) is not where you can also get new license plates for your car. So we headed out with our new DLs in hand to get our plates changed.

This particular office closed at 5pm. We arrived at 4:54pm and the line was halfway down the hall. This wasn't going to happen, but we decided to wait in line anyway. Just in case.

At 5pm a woman came out from behind the desk with a stack of labels in her hand. She handed each of us in the line one label and said, "We'll take all of you, but you're the last ones. If anyone comes after you, tell them to come back on Monday."

Daryl and I were flabbergasted. They were staying open late... for us? It was 5:03 on a FRIDAY. Why...?

We happily waited in line, and made it to the front around 5:20. The woman behind the desk filled out the necessary forms while chatting pleasantly with us both.

"Why do you stay open late?" we asked.

"What do you mean?" she said.

"Well... we were halfway down the hall, and it's after five."

"We wouldn't want you to have to come back on Monday!" she said, surprised.

"This wouldn't happen in New Jersey," I said.

"Really? Well whyever not?" she asked.

Just then there was a knock on the office door. The woman went to it, ready to explain to the would-be customer that they were now closed. It turned out to be the first customer of the day, who had returned at the day's end holding a box of cheesecake. 

"This is for you," she said to the woman. "I work at the Cheesecake Factory around the corner, and you mentioned that strawberry is your favorite."

By now my jaw was hanging open and Daryl's eyes were wide. The woman said goodbye, took her cheesecake, and returned to help us.

"That was so nice," she said. "I mentioned that I like cheesecake, so she brought me some! Isn't that sweet?"

Where am I living? Places stay open a few moments just to "be nice," and customers at the DMV return with large boxes of cheesecake just to "be nice." I'm 98% sure that if we had looked longingly enough at that cheesecake the woman would have sent us home with half of it.

Gosh, this place is nice.