It’s funny what can trigger a memory. Events or moments turn on the switch to past lessons we’ve walked. The recent trigger for me—an irate customer screamed at me on the phone. I might also mention, it was my first day back to work after losing my grandmother.
Tender. Vulnerable. Grieving. I could barely hold back the
tears in my eyes as she condescendingly berated me. Thankfully it was over the
phone. As soon as we hung up, I excused myself to the bathroom to get my head together.
Looking in the mirror, I was instantly transported to two
decades earlier. The scene was eerily similar—tear streaked face, trembling
hands, and shock. Only back then I was eight-months pregnant, with tired feet,
a throbbing back, and enough emotional baggage to fill an SUV.
The day was ordinary. The lesson was forever.
It all started with three women—a grandmother, a mother, and
a daughter.
I was working as a cashier for a local retail store. This small family of three arrived in my line and I rang them up. Nothing special.
A few pair of shoes and a sweater—easy. But, the computer made a mistake on the
pricing of the shoes. The mother, probably in her late 50’s pointed out the
error, “Sweetheart, the shoes are buy one, get one free.”
“Oh, you’re right,” I said. “I’ll need the manager to come
and fix it.”
“Thank you, darling,” The Grandmother spoke up this time,
smiling.
I called my manager over the intercom like I’d done hundreds
of times before. Suddenly the drama started. The Daughter, who looked to be in
her early 30’s started screaming at me. She made the extra effort to walk
around the counter and come face-to-face with me.
“Are you stupid? You must be the stupidest person I’ve ever
met!”
I was confused by the Daughter’s anger towards me. Her face
turned red. She ringed her hands like she wanted to punch me. She got inches
from my face and screamed even louder, “You are a worthless piece of crap!”
I looked to her mother and grandmother for help, but they
only smiled and remained quiet. It was as if I was on some hidden camera show,
only this wasn’t funny. I rubbed my enormous belly to emphasize I was pregnant,
but it didn’t slow the woman down. It only enraged her more.
“I don’t care that you’re pregnant. I will kick your butt!”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did wrong. My manager is
coming to fix the problem,” I said. I’d never seen anything like this woman
before. All this over shoes?
“Can your manager fix stupid?” The Daughter was screaming in
my face. Sweat dripping down her face, lips pursed. She paced back and forth by
my cubby, contemplating her next move.
I was terrified.
Thankfully my manager showed up amidst the chaos and
dismissed me to the break room while she finished the transaction. As I walked
away the Daughter yelled at me, “Yeah, you better walk away!”
I barely made it to the bathroom. I fell into a million tiny
pieces. The tears, helped by the over abundance of hormones, broke forth like
one of those apocalyptic movies where the ocean is running amuck. I couldn’t
stop crying.
Knock. Knock.
“Carol, can you come out for a second? We need to talk.” It
was Debbie, my manager.
I wiped my face with a paper towel and opened the door. To
my surprise I was face-to-face with Debbie and
the Mother (of the crazy woman). My eyes must have widened because the
Mother stepped forward and reached for my hand, tenderly.
“I am so sorry about what just happened. I wanted to come
and talk to you, personally. My daughter is a great woman. She has the kindest
heart and she wouldn’t hurt a fly. It’s just—” The Mother paused to catch her
breath and wipe tears that were falling from her own eyes. “Well, she has
terminal brain cancer. She’s on so many medications that make her act
different. And, now, she is living out the rest of her life like this. I only
have months, maybe even weeks left with her.”
I didn’t know what to say. “I’m so sorry.”
The Mother squeezed my hand, softly. “I just didn’t want you
to think she was a monster. She isn’t. She’s just going through something awful
right now. And, you didn’t do anything wrong. She just gets confused sometimes.
I hope you can forgive her?”
“Yes, of course.” I reached out and hugged the Mother.
We embraced. Two women. Two mothers. One preparing to say
good-bye to her daughter and one waiting to meet her daughter.
I learned a very simple lesson that day—you never know what
someone else is really going through.
You can’t. Even the most complicated, rude, arrogant, troublesome people are
fighting some type of battle from within. I love this quote from Thich Nhat
Hahn: “When
another person makes you suffer, it is because he suffers deeply
within himself, and his suffering is spilling over. He does not need
punishment; he needs help. That's the message he is sending.”
Not
everyone is fighting a brain tumor like the lady I encountered, but they might
be suffering something else—a divorce, abandonment, anxiety, depression, a job
loss, a wayward child, insecurities, the loss of a child. You never know. You can never truly judge.
You can only love.
You can only love.
