The $10 Lesson That Changed How I See Time (And Life)

The Unexpected Lesson a Fruit Seller Taught Me About Time

(actual morning and tangerines from this story 👆🏻)

Hola,

One morning this winter, after finishing my morning remote work shift in Spain, I decided to venture out for some fresh fruit. Instead of my usual market, I chose to visit a local fruit stand owned by a father and son that my family had highly recommended.

What happened next created an experience I've shared with countless people both in Spain and now back home in the USA.

I entered the shop looking for just a few items—four tangerines and a handful of strawberries, since I was shopping only for myself. Noticing four different boxes of tangerines displayed, I approached the owner, who was standing with his son at the counter, and asked if he knew which varieties were easy to peel.

Without hesitation, he walked toward me saying, "Well, let's try and see."

As we approached the tangerine display, he pulled out a small knife and selected a fruit from the first box. While carefully peeling it, he explained the origin of these particular tangerines. Once peeled, he cut it in half, handed a piece to me to taste, and commented that he didn't feel this variety was particularly easy to peel. He suggested we try another box.

He repeated this process with each variety—sharing where they were grown, describing the flavor differences between them, and offering me samples from all four boxes. This continued for what must have been at least fifteen minutes, during which he shared his knowledge and obvious passion for his produce and the various Spanish regions they came from.

I couldn't believe it. The store was full of customers, yet this remarkable man treated me as if I were the only person there. He gave me what felt like all the time in the world, making it clear this wasn't simply about making a sale but about ensuring I found exactly what I was looking for.

I felt almost ridiculous when he finally asked, "What do you think?" and I replied that I'd take five tangerines from box number two. After twenty minutes of his undivided attention, my purchase totaled less than ten dollars, and that was only because I also bought some strawberries—which, by the way, he took additional time to explain the difference between in-season berries and those that weren't.

As I left the store, my daughter Jessica FaceTimed me. Walking home, I began telling her what had just happened. Even now as I write this, I feel my heart growing warmer recounting the story, just as it did when telling her. I became tearful during our conversation—perhaps more than tearful, given my recent menopausal hormonal shifts 🤣—but there were genuine tears as I shared this experience.

Jessica remarked, "Mom, it's funny how much you love going to markets in Spain, when in America you dread grocery shopping."

I've told this story to many people, becoming emotional each time. Reflecting on why this experience affected me so deeply, I've reached a conclusion.

Yes, there are obvious cultural differences between countries regarding food appreciation. The passion for regional products and local farmers is evident throughout Europe. And yes, perhaps their approach to business is more consumer-focused.

But ultimately, I believe it comes down to time. Simply time.

In Spain, people relate to time differently. Life moves more slowly, more calmly—taking siestas in the middle of the day is practically a cultural religion, two-hour lunches with "tertulia" conversations to follow is their way of life, and taking a daily walk (a paseo) is more than a health habit; it's how they connect. These customs give people the opportunity to be fully present. This mindfulness is tangible in everyday interactions.

I hadn't realized how much I—how much all of us—have been living in a world starved of time. Time to be present enough to care about which tangerines are easier to peel. Time to engage with one another as human beings rather than transactions.

I have been back in the States for just a few weeks now, and I find myself working hard to embrace the American entrepreneurial spirit while not losing the Spanish art of presence. It's a delicate balance. The energy and drive that fuel innovation and progress in America are valuable, but so is the Spanish commitment to savoring life's moments.

That fruit stand owner gave me more than advice about tangerines. He gave me a perspective I carry with me now—a reminder to pause, to taste life slowly, to make time for genuine connection. Even in our fast-paced world, we can create small pockets of presence—whether it's taking time to really listen to a colleague, savoring a meal without rushing, or simply asking a question with genuine curiosity rather than automatic courtesy.

PS: Perhaps the real luxury in our modern age isn't the latest gadget or status symbol, but the willingness to give someone the gift of our undivided time and attention. That, I believe, is what I'll remember long after those tangerines were eaten