I am a happy man

The lanky teenage boy was having a hard time choosing a flavour out of his 64 options. After he had shot down each one in front of him, he settled for soft serve. "I'll have a large, vanilla," he told me.

"Have you been here before?" I asked, "those are really, really quite big."

"The bigger the better, baby," he insisted, and who am I to argue with that?

Shaking my head, I grabbed a napkin, wrapped it around a regular cone and set to work on the soft serve machine. I swivelled the ice cream, around and around until I ran out of space between the dispenser and the bottom of the machine. The machine would not accommodate a bigger size. I turned around and handed it to him with quiet reserve.

"Yes!" he yelled, "this is awesome!" After he had taken a sizable lick and managed to tilt the cone completely off kilter, he turned to me. Looking me directly in the eye, he told me, "I am a happy man."

This must be what my grandmother meant when she told me that I'd make a lucky guy very happy one day. That day has come, and I am satisfied.