Today was something odd and I find myself trying to grasp a hold of all its contents. There were parts of my day that made me want to cry out in anguish at the people I was faced with and scream in anger at the state of humanity, but it was as if someone knew my despair and suddenly I faced with beauty and this made me want to cry out with joy and triumph for the hope that could still be found.
Last night I stayed up until 3:30am and the night before that I didn’t find my sleep until 2am. When I woke up at 10 this morning it wasn’t a surprise that I had slept through my alarm by an hour and a half. I told myself that it was time to get up, there was stuff for me to do. It appears that I fell asleep again an instant after I had this thought, and I didn’t wake up again until 11:57 am, three minutes before I was due at work. (You might well wonder why I’m staying up late to write this, but I’m weak for my passions.) When I looked at my alarm clock it took a moment for me to comprehend. 11:57am? Didn’t it just say 10am? My clock must be broken. I checked my phone. SHIT. I jumped up and dialed work. “James? I’m supposed to be at work right at this very minute, and I’m not. I’m going to be late. I’ll be there as soon as possible. Twenty minutes?” “Don’t worry, I’ll tell Courtney you’ll be here in thirty, don’t rush.” At 12:30pm I ran through the doors only to find Courtney laughing at my frantic state. “We won’t be talking about this,” I said to her with a grin.
I caught my breath and settled down. This calm and collected state wasn’t going to last long, considering the ever-lasting line-up of overachieving Christmas shoppers that I met myself with at the cash desk. It was going to be a long shift.
It started out smooth, no huge problems. It was a busy afternoon and there was a constant flow of customers, but everyone seemed to be in a good mood. Christmas was taking effect, at least that’s what I thought. Then things went weird.
A lovely looking lady came to my till with two baskets full of stocking stuffers and about twenty red stockings hanging from her arm. I laughed. “Looks like you’re having a busy Christmas this year.” She smiled at me. “I have twenty-two coming for the holidays.” “HOLY, that’s gotta be the best family Christmas I’ve ever heard of, twenty-two people, that’s a reunion.” She smiled again, but this time I traced pain in the corner of her mouth and I didn’t understand why. She looked me in the eye and told me her husband was dying of lung cancer and that he wouldn’t be with her for much longer. Her children and all her grandchildren were coming for one last Christmas. Her voice began to shake and her mouth twitched ever so slightly. I had to put my scanner down for a moment and God, I didn’t know what to do. What can you possibly say to someone that would make any difference or make it a little better? When someone you love tells you something like this, that they’re losing someone, you can offer your hand, the warmth of a hug, you can place a cup of tea before them and tell them to drink. You can provide some kind of support which doesn’t stop a person from having cancer but the fact that you’re there, makes it a little better, right? But what do you do when someone you don’t even know confides something so life shattering to you? You don’t even know their name, so a hug would feel inappropriate. You don’t know their favourite colour or if they like broccoli, so how could you know how long she had been married to her husband, how long he had left or when it had been diagnosed. I stood there, motionless and awkward with so much respect for this woman, that she was able to stand up, breath, buy something with the knowledge that half of her was dying at that very moment. I tried so hard not to sound trite or cliched, but I told her I was so sorry. She said he wasn’t even a smoker, they ate their broccoli and we’re healthy. It tore me apart, she did like broccoli. She was human. So was her husband. I asked her about her children, I thought that maybe it would lighten her mind for just a couple minutes. She told me all the areas of the world they would be flying from just to be home and she beamed. I wished I could hold her hand, squeeze it for just a second but I didn’t know her, she was just a customer and as she walked out the store doors I doubted I would ever see her again and I would never know if her husband made it to Christmas Day.
The next customer I called over seemed just as lovely. She wasn’t. This lady wanted to return an internet order because it was the wrong book. She had ordered the paperback copy rather than the hardcover that she collects. In her return she wanted me to exchange the paperback and hand over the hardcover and that be that. I said I couldn’t do this because the hardcover was $12 greater than the original paperback she had paid for. This reality appeared to upset her a great deal. “Well it’s not my fault they sent me the paperback,” she yelled at me over the counter. I apoligized and explained that the ISBN she had chosen matched the paperback and she had paid for this copy. If in fact she had paid for the hardcover and they had sent a paperback, she was entitled to an exchange but this was not the case. She didn’t seem to understand what I was saying, in fact I wasn’t even sure she was listening. She freaked out, swearing at me, telling me I was useless and that she would be complaining to someone a lot higher than me in the company. I was trying to hold my anger in. I kept apologizing to her and trying to explain the situation but all this resulted in was “Well fuck this, I’m not paying $12 extra, just hurry up and ring the rest of this through.” I scanned her other items and told her the total. She threw her debit card at me and told me she wanted a bag. After paying she snatched the bag from my hands and walked off uttering curses under breath, just loud enough for me to catch a couple of her words.
I was shaking and close to tears. I couldn’t believe that a person could get so upset about a book. What was so life threatening about this situation that made it okay for her to yell at me and tear me apart? The customer previous to her had a dying husband but she seemed to be able to control her emotions fairly well. What was a hardcover book in the big scheme of things? I was so insulted by her disrespect and rudeness. I felt ashamed for people. Sure, who wants to pay full price for a hardcover, it’s something we all complain about when a good book comes out that we’re dying to read, but does everyone go around abusing cashiers when they succumb to their own wants. I took another customer from the lineup and I couldn’t look the gentleman in the eye; i was still trying to control my tears. The first thing he said was “I’m sorry.” “Pardon me?” I looked up. “I overheard your last transaction, I think everyone did, I’m sorry you had to deal with someone so despicable.” “Thank you, that renews my faith in shoppers.” We laughed a little and as I handed him his magazine he too looked me in the eye and said “I appreciate everything you did for me today.”
Half an hour later I was doing a lot better. I was still upset by the fact that I had been sworn at and told that I was useless by a person who wasn’t willing to listen. It didn’t seem fair that she could release all her frustration onto me and I, as a representative of the company I worked for, couldn’t retort and tell her what I really thought of her disrespect. Her efforts were like fighting against a weaponless opponent. Are you really winning? She made me want to curl up behind a bookcase and never look at a person again, fearful that I might look at her.
Another lady passed through my till, this lady however was buying approximately $400 worth of tiny little books and bookmarks. We made conversation and part way through the transaction I told her of a different way I could ring up her items that could save her at least $100 but it would take five minutes more. She appreciated me wanting to save her money so I did my thing as she said to me “I must be your worst customer of the day.” “HA! I was just yelled at by a woman, compared to her, you’re a saint,” I replied. She looked appalled. I laughed at her expression, “it’s okay, it’s Christmas, everyone gets a little upset.” “You’re kidding right? That’s no justification for taking out your anger on a cashier.” I appreciated her understanding and I was feeling a lot better about the situation. We talked about the spirit of Christmas and our plans for the holidays. I spent about fifteen minutes with this woman and I was really smiling again. By the time everything was paid for she’d saved, to our surprise, a lot more than $100. I wanted to reach out and shake this woman’s hand and say thank you for everything. To my surprise she placed her bags to her side and said “I think we should hug.” We both reached over the counter and hugged in the middle. We wished each other a wonderful Christmas and I asked her to come back soon, and I really meant it. It was so strange but why would it be?
This woman had reached out to me today and I wanted to connect. She seemed significant to my day and I needed her to know. I imagined her going home to her husband and two children and asking, over a home cooked meal, about their days and they, in turn, would ask her about her’s. She would tell them about a girl she met, who wore a name tag that said “Sarah” and this girl had somehow made her stop; made her think about the random people who cross her path, made her think in wonder at the simplicity and joy of sharing something with a stranger. Was she married? Did she have children? Did she cook? Even though I didn’t know these answers I felt I needed to show that I appreciated her but how can you do so with a stranger? Sharing something even as basic as a hug seems an intimacy only to be shared with people you know, but it felt okay to hold a complete stranger. Sure it felt a little odd, but I had wanted to reach out to this no-name woman because of the change in spirit she had created in me. It was clear from her statement “I think we should hug,” that we had both been impacted by this interaction, so much so that we needed to express it in a different way, but why aren’t people doing this all the time, whenever their intuition tells them to? I even get frustrated by people that do know one another, lovers especially.
Touch is such a wonder to me. It’s such a beautiful thing because it’s a privilege and if you’ve earned such a privilege, why not take advantage of it? Sometimes I drive and catch glimpses of partners driving together. One looks at the road, the other looks at the passing scenery. Are they just pretending that they’re not in love? Is this nonchalant attitude just a game they play with one another? Why is her hand not placed lightly on his thigh as he makes a lane change? It’s right there, in front of you, why are you pretending it’s invisible? Why don’t you connect whenever you possibly can? Why is she looking at the blurred asphalt, when the flecks of sunlight on his face are far more beautiful.
Why do lovers walk side-by-side and not hold hands? We know their fingers are both lonely and cold, why not bring them together? Why not walk in unison and wonder at the glory of it all. His hand, tangled in yours Yes, his hand. With yours. It’s yours, you’ve got it in your grasp. Marvel at how he ever got to be standing next to you and try and concentrate on the path at your feet but take quick glances to believe yes, his hand is still there.
How can lovers sit together and not have their knees touch? It’s so natural to be drawn to one another, I mean, that’s why you’re with them right? Because you were drawn to them in the first place. How can lovers have a conversation with the person they love and not look up from the page in front of them? Talk into their eyes not into your math homework. It’s nonsense to me…
If something feels right, hold onto it.
