Story at the Samples Stand
Keep it short--
they've got places to be.
Trim it back--
they've got people to see.
Impact--
And then some days feel long-form. I stopped at Trader's Joe's on my way home from work. At the free-samples stand, I took a sample, turned around, and then couldn't leave because people and shopping carts were too close to me. An older woman with a very quiet voice and smeared red lipstick asked if I was all right, and moved back, and asked if I was very sensitive--she can tell these things because she is an artist, she said.
I said, "Yes, I think I am sensitive, but right now, just really hungry."
She said, "I'm very intuitive. Where are you from?" "Oh they have marvelous choirs. The chorales. Are you musical? Yes, I thought so." and "Do you know the ballet dancer, Pavlova? My mother was a dancer. My mother was born in 1917, and she was a psychic, but she didn't know it."
"How did you know it?"
"She'd just say something and you'd know. What's your name?"
"Katie." I sipped my mini coffee that was still too hot.
I like to hear from different perspectives, and she was happy to keep talking as I drank my hot little coffee. And after a couple minutes of chatting about music and how her husband taught literature but she wasn't one to read, she explained some theories about corruption, politics, and a real homosexual communist mafia takeover about to happen in the United States, complete with offensive remarks about minorities and people with particular health issues. It was terrible, and saddening. Cup into the trashcan, but still smiling, I let her know I needed to be running.
"Katie, right? Have you ever heard of the model, Kate Moss? ..." Waves her hands in the air, oblivious to others shoppers around her--including children who were oblivious to her.
"Oh yeah, Kate Moss... oh wow, I had no idea. Okay, take care!"
But after all the garbage, what would you say? What would you want to say? What would you want to actually have said?
I didn't want to say anything... but now I just feel weird. I disagreed but declined to give my own opinion. I wouldn't change her mind, I thought. Too hungry, anyway, and my shoulder was aching because I'd been carrying the shopping basket which was full of fruit and milk.
She thought we were having a pleasant conversation, but her words were hurtful.
Principles to live by: honesty, compassion, and justice.
Actions speak louder than words. I smiled with her but was appalled. Key term: cognitive dissonance. Probably why it's bothering me right now. Next time I'll say, "that's offensive." And maybe mention compassion and justice. Education.
Oh--blueberries, bananas, and peaches, in case you were wondering.
they've got places to be.
Trim it back--
they've got people to see.
Impact--
And then some days feel long-form. I stopped at Trader's Joe's on my way home from work. At the free-samples stand, I took a sample, turned around, and then couldn't leave because people and shopping carts were too close to me. An older woman with a very quiet voice and smeared red lipstick asked if I was all right, and moved back, and asked if I was very sensitive--she can tell these things because she is an artist, she said.
I said, "Yes, I think I am sensitive, but right now, just really hungry."
She said, "I'm very intuitive. Where are you from?" "Oh they have marvelous choirs. The chorales. Are you musical? Yes, I thought so." and "Do you know the ballet dancer, Pavlova? My mother was a dancer. My mother was born in 1917, and she was a psychic, but she didn't know it."
"How did you know it?"
"She'd just say something and you'd know. What's your name?"
"Katie." I sipped my mini coffee that was still too hot.
I like to hear from different perspectives, and she was happy to keep talking as I drank my hot little coffee. And after a couple minutes of chatting about music and how her husband taught literature but she wasn't one to read, she explained some theories about corruption, politics, and a real homosexual communist mafia takeover about to happen in the United States, complete with offensive remarks about minorities and people with particular health issues. It was terrible, and saddening. Cup into the trashcan, but still smiling, I let her know I needed to be running.
"Katie, right? Have you ever heard of the model, Kate Moss? ..." Waves her hands in the air, oblivious to others shoppers around her--including children who were oblivious to her.
"Oh yeah, Kate Moss... oh wow, I had no idea. Okay, take care!"
But after all the garbage, what would you say? What would you want to say? What would you want to actually have said?
I didn't want to say anything... but now I just feel weird. I disagreed but declined to give my own opinion. I wouldn't change her mind, I thought. Too hungry, anyway, and my shoulder was aching because I'd been carrying the shopping basket which was full of fruit and milk.
She thought we were having a pleasant conversation, but her words were hurtful.
Principles to live by: honesty, compassion, and justice.
Actions speak louder than words. I smiled with her but was appalled. Key term: cognitive dissonance. Probably why it's bothering me right now. Next time I'll say, "that's offensive." And maybe mention compassion and justice. Education.
Oh--blueberries, bananas, and peaches, in case you were wondering.