A nice old man walked into McDonald’s asking for directions. Simple request. The kind that happens dozens of times a day in fast food restaurants. Give him an address, point him in the right direction, send him on his way. Two minutes, tops.
But the manager looked at this elderly man and saw something everyone else might have missed: he needed more than directions. He needed someone to make sure he could actually get where he was going.
So the manager took at least fifteen minutes. Set up Google Maps on the old man’s phone. Plugged in the address. Showed him how to follow the green dot while he was driving. Explained each step carefully, patiently, making sure the man understood not just what to do, but why.
What’s second nature to the young can be a real learning curve for the elderly. That’s the truth buried in this story. For people who grew up with smartphones, opening an app and following GPS directions is automatic. We don’t think about it. We don’t remember what it was like to not know how to do this. We just do it and assume everyone else can too.
But for older people—people who learned to navigate with paper maps and written directions and landmarks memorized through repetition—smartphones are foreign territory. The interface doesn’t make intuitive sense. The vocabulary is unfamiliar. And asking for help feels embarrassing because everyone around them seems to know something they don’t.
This manager understood that. Instead of giving quick directions and moving on, he invested fifteen minutes of his shift teaching this man something that would help him far beyond just today. He gave him independence. Confidence. The ability to navigate on his own going forward.
The photograph shows them bent over the phone together. The manager focused and patient. The old man learning. Both of them taking time that our world insists we don’t have, in order to make sure that help was actually helpful.
Today’s lesson: Please be patient with our parents, just like what they did for us when we were kids. That’s the takeaway. That’s what this manager’s kindness is really teaching us.
Our parents spent years teaching us things that were second nature to them but completely foreign to us. How to tie our shoes. How to read. How to cross the street safely. How to make a phone call. How to do a hundred small tasks that we now perform without thinking.
They didn’t rush us. Didn’t tell us to figure it out ourselves. Didn’t get impatient when we asked the same question multiple times. They took the time, again and again, until we understood. Until those tasks became second nature to us too.
And now the roles are reversed. Now they’re the ones learning something new. Something that’s simple to us but complicated to them. And we have a choice: we can be impatient and dismissive, or we can be the McDonald’s manager. We can take fifteen minutes. We can explain it properly. We can remember that they spent years teaching us, and the least we can do is return the favor.
The old man walked in needing directions. He left with something more valuable: the knowledge that he could navigate on his own. That technology didn’t have to be a barrier. That someone cared enough to teach him properly instead of just pointing him toward the door.
That manager could have been busy. Could have said he didn’t have time. Could have given quick directions and moved on to the next customer. No one would have blamed him. Fast food restaurants aren’t supposed to be places where managers spend fifteen minutes teaching elderly customers how to use their phones.
But he did it anyway. Because he saw someone who needed help and decided that his time was worth spending on making sure that help was thorough. That it would actually make a difference beyond just today.
What’s second nature to the young can be a real learning curve for the elderly. But that doesn’t mean they can’t learn. It just means they need teachers who are patient. Who remember what it was like to not know something everyone else seemed to understand. Who value human connection more than efficiency.
Our parents are getting older. Technology is moving faster than they can keep up with. And we have a choice about how we respond. We can sigh and take their phones and do it for them, reinforcing that they can’t understand. Or we can be like this manager—take fifteen minutes, explain it properly, make sure they know how to do it themselves.
They taught us how to tie our shoes even though it would have been faster to do it for us. They taught us how to read even though it took months of practice. They taught us how to be human beings capable of functioning in the world, and they did it with patience and repetition and love.
The least we can do is teach them how to follow a green dot on Google Maps. And do it without sighing. Without impatience. Without making them feel stupid for not already knowing.
This McDonald’s manager showed us what that looks like. Fifteen minutes. Full attention. Genuine care. The willingness to slow down in a fast-paced world because some things matter more than efficiency.
Please be patient with our parents, just like what they did for us when we were kids. That’s not just advice. It’s a debt we owe. A circle we need to complete. A way of honoring everything they gave us by giving back when they need us most.