I Don’t Have a Button for That

We’ve all been there — a moment when a little critical thinking, a little kindness, would have made all the difference.

We stopped at a familiar buffet after a long drive, the kind we’ve visited for years. My husband stepped up to order, visibly tired, and the cashier chirped:

“What can I get you?”

He froze for a beat — it seemed so obvious.

“Two buffets, please,” he said.

She smiled faintly and pointed him toward the food. But how much better could that moment have felt if she’d just read the room?

Or the pharmacy counter, where a woman hands over a prescription, ID, and insurance card. The tech holds the papers and flatly asks, “Can I help you?”

“I’d like to fill that prescription, please,” the customer says, imagining the tech suddenly realizing she’s already holding exactly what she needs. But no, just another mumbled, “Sure thing.”

Then there’s Bill, calling his credit card company about a charge. He introduces himself as Bill Mathers and gives his account number. The rep pauses, then:

“Sir, I need you to tell me your name.”

“Bill Mathers,” he repeats.

“Sir, I’m going to need you to go and get your card and read your name off.”

Bill hangs up, calls again, and reaches a cheerful agent who sees “William T. Mathers” and makes the connection without fuss. Problem solved.

And then there’s my personal favorite. I once ordered my boys a kids’ meal. They were so excited at a rare fast food treat and the popular toy that was promised inside.

“Have it Your Way,” that was their motto, but I guess it got a little complicated when it came to the burgers, I asked for no meat — we just wanted the veggies and sauce. The drive‑through clerk went quiet, then said:

“That would just leave bread, a pickle, and a tomato.”

“Yes, that’s what I want,” I confirmed. “We’re vegetarian.”

Another pause.

“Couldn’t you just pick the meat off yourself?”

I gently suggested she just tell the kitchen.

Another long silence.

And then:

“I don’t have a button for that.”

That line became a family saying. Any time someone just couldn’t — or wouldn’t — think beyond the script, we’d look at each other and say, “I don’t have a button for that.”

Here’s the thing: life doesn’t always give you a button. Sometimes you have to slow down, think, and meet the need in front of you.

Don’t be the one who stops because it’s not on the screen. Don’t be the one who can’t see what’s obvious just because no one’s spelled it out for you.

Because the truth is — the best moments in service, in work, in relationships — they don’t come from the buttons.

They come from you.

🎧 listen here: https://open.spotify.com/episode/3QlFDK8R2Sv39kFW4aTvxe?si=HQ0xpPraQL-oSRc51zHMnw