No Problem-o

My mother was the least prejudiced person I know. In her mind, people just didn’t leave impressions.

This is a paraphrase of a true conversation she once had with a cab driver in Jamaica.

When she told it to me later, she couldn’t remember the things most people notice—gender, race, or appearance.

Mother: I'm late for my flight. Hurry!
Driver: No problem-o

Mother: Isn't there a quicker route? I'll be late.
Driver: No problem-o

Mother: Slow down. You're driving too fast.
Driver: No problem-o

Mother: Roll up your window. It's too windy.
Driver: No problem-o

Mother: Get me closer to the United gate.
Driver: No problem-o

Mother: Careful, that suitcase has fragile glass in it.
Driver: No problem-o

Mother: Here's a dollar tip. I'm late.
Driver: I hope your plane crashes.

Mother: staring with mouth agape—What?!!
Driver: No problem-o