"I love your earrings." That's one of the first things Caroline said to me at work yesterday. I admit it frightened me. After all, as recently as Saturday Caroline was loud and proud in her contempt for me. I remembered the famous warning about killer dobermans: They always lick before they bite.
However, she seemed so desperately sincere – and since her skin was marked by angry red zits that weren't there Friday – I tried to tamp down my skepticism. We were alone together for about an hour, with only a few customers straggling in, and she was chatty. Perhaps even manically. Clearly our store manager, Helena, had spoken to her seriously about how to treat people. (And explained that my possible HR complaint would not look good for the store ... or Caroline personally.)
Helena herself came in early – I think in part of check on us. When she was in her office, I stuck my head in and mouthed, "thank you." Helena told me that Caroline "really wants to be nice." I guess my face betrayed my doubt, because she quickly added, "I believe her." I said – truthfully – that I was relieved to see the change and that while I had dreaded working the shift, the time was zipping by.
I found out that Caroline is a bit of a daddy's girl and that while her family is not religious, they celebrate both Christmas and Hanukkah (for her mother's family). She showed me pictures of the Christmas decorations she made for her this, her first, apartment because she admits she's broke.
I also learned that she's from Barrington, one of Chicago's wealthiest suburbs. That tidbit softened my heart more than the rest. I wondered, but obviously didn't ask, how her parents feel about their college-educated daughter making retail her career. Here's a truism about Chicagoland – tell me your neighborhood and I can shorthand your life.* People from Barrington live in McMansions, buy new cars every other year, and would prefer their kids go Ivy League but would settle for Purdue or Northwestern. If you're not white or perhaps Asian in Barrington, you're likely working in one of those big new houses, not living in it. So a daughter who splits her 40-hour workweek between a cosmetic store and a card shop was likely not on their bingo card. Maybe that's part of the reason for her hard-charging bravado.
When I ended my shift, Caroline actually thanked me and said she looked forward to working with me next week. Huh? What? Do I believe that Helena managed to change Caroline's heart? Not really. But if she's not constantly criticizing and judging me, complaining about me behind my back and sowing seeds of dissent among my coworkers, I'll take it.
I'm reminded something a minister told us years ago – "Don't waste your dread." I was so worried about yesterday's shift that I literally wasted hours of my life being anxious and unhappy. After all, nothing bad happened yesterday. Not a thing! I know my wariness comes in handy sometimes, but in this case I depressed myself with my distrust of my fellow (wo)man.
Will I learn from this? We'll see.
*In the interest of fairness ... people in Barrington would dismiss my community as woke, sanctimonious, over-taxed and over-regulated. We cry the liberal tears that MAGA loves to drink. And you know what? I'm good with that.
Photo by Siora on Unsplash
