At my job, it is my task to keep people from coming in the door unless they have a good reason to.
This means that I am always the one when a salesman comes in the door to stop him, tell him if he has something he wants to leave that will be fine, and give him a name and number to call next time. This is on the off chance that anyone will see the poor salesman. Some of these sales men drive for over 2 hours without an appointment or even a good idea of what we do. It does not put them an intelligent light. Some just see us and stop and ask. It is one of the mysteries of life to me why they waste so much time and gas. The only reason I have ever been able to come up with is "expense accounts". I think they are pretty much a total waste, but then I don't run a business. I just admit or turn away people who show up.
I have heard it all, and learned to navigate the waters. I can anticipate the next angle they will come at me from. When people ask what my job description is, the most often answer is "Goddess of Hellfire". Few people, even salesmen, have the chutzpah to counter that, let me tell you. I've gotten really good at it, over the years. That's why I was ready when I saw a profusely sweating man, dirty guy missing some teeth headed in my door one day, I was ready.
I stood strong, ready to tell him we did not want whatever he was selling. Fresh fruit, knock off designer fragrances, solvents or paint. No. No. No and NO. I girded myself to hear what he had to say. My first thought was that this was a meth head. He did look the part. I chastised myself for being "prejudiced" and waited to see what he was going to pull out and show me.
I learned a little something about myself as soon as he opened his mouth.
He said "I.....I......I.....am a tr......tr......."
And the Goddess of Hellfire melted like a marshmallow. Yes. You read that correctly. Apparently even if you are lost truck driver, sweating profusely at 8:30 am, dirty, missing teeth and looking like a meth-head, I will still be kind to you if you stutter. I guess that is just the way I am. I turned from a warrior with a sword into a melted marshmallow right there before that poor man's eyes.
I can't help it. I know I can't. I patiently listened to him tell me what I already knew, without interruption. It took a very uncomfortably long time for him to do this. He had pulled up and was coming in to check in instead of waiting in his truck for our forklift operator to come to him. It took what seemed like a very, very long time for him to get out his sentence. But I knew not to interrupt (from reading it somewhere) and so I waited, praying for this man the whole time, feeling about 2 inches tall. He was just a hard working truck driver who had a schedule to meet.
I can't tell you how badly I felt about my preconceived notions. Don't get me wrong, had he turned out to be a salesman that "just saw us on the road and stopped" I could have put the armor back on and sent him on his way. But I think I would have been nicer, because he stuttered, and for some reason that just fills me with empathy.
I guess "prejudice" can work both ways, and neither one of them have anything to do with "fairness".
Something to think about. Are you prejudiced? And if so, is that good or bad? Is there anything you can do about that or are you destined to melt like a marshmallow or grow armor for no logical reason? Like me?
I stood strong, ready to tell him we did not want whatever he was selling. Fresh fruit, knock off designer fragrances, solvents or paint. No. No. No and NO. I girded myself to hear what he had to say. My first thought was that this was a meth head. He did look the part. I chastised myself for being "prejudiced" and waited to see what he was going to pull out and show me.
I learned a little something about myself as soon as he opened his mouth.
He said "I.....I......I.....am a tr......tr......."
And the Goddess of Hellfire melted like a marshmallow. Yes. You read that correctly. Apparently even if you are lost truck driver, sweating profusely at 8:30 am, dirty, missing teeth and looking like a meth-head, I will still be kind to you if you stutter. I guess that is just the way I am. I turned from a warrior with a sword into a melted marshmallow right there before that poor man's eyes.
I can't help it. I know I can't. I patiently listened to him tell me what I already knew, without interruption. It took a very uncomfortably long time for him to do this. He had pulled up and was coming in to check in instead of waiting in his truck for our forklift operator to come to him. It took what seemed like a very, very long time for him to get out his sentence. But I knew not to interrupt (from reading it somewhere) and so I waited, praying for this man the whole time, feeling about 2 inches tall. He was just a hard working truck driver who had a schedule to meet.
I can't tell you how badly I felt about my preconceived notions. Don't get me wrong, had he turned out to be a salesman that "just saw us on the road and stopped" I could have put the armor back on and sent him on his way. But I think I would have been nicer, because he stuttered, and for some reason that just fills me with empathy.
I guess "prejudice" can work both ways, and neither one of them have anything to do with "fairness".
Something to think about. Are you prejudiced? And if so, is that good or bad? Is there anything you can do about that or are you destined to melt like a marshmallow or grow armor for no logical reason? Like me?
No comments:
Post a Comment
These are my thoughts, which sometimes drive me crazy and sometimes keep me sane, but are always entertaining. I call this Lace Your Days With Hope because I can't find enough hope to make an entire quilt out of. Stay tuned, and add your own!