A Customer Called Carol

I was working on some paperwork behind the counter, but looked up as a lady made her way to the register. Squinting, she asked if we had any religious Christmas cards, "after all, Christ's birth is why we have Christmas in the first place. It would be nice if there were some cards that mentioned that."

I told her that I would have to go to the back room to get a couple of religious cards, and that I would be right back. As I walked to the back of the store, I thought about my beliefs about Christmas, and while I agreed with her, I felt myself being slightly irritated. I was irritated that she couldn't find a card among the ones we had out-that I had to stop what I was doing to find more. Surely, one of the cards we had would work for this lady. Why couldn't she find one?

I love my job-a big part of why, is that often I get to really make someone's day. We might have just the right figurine that means something special to someone. Or, the perfect card is just waiting for me to introduce it to a special customer. But, not today. I just wanted to point out to this customer that we had several other cards, and she should pick one of those. I didn't, though-I went to the back room, climbed the ladder, and pulled four or five designs of "religious" Christmas cards.

"Here are a couple of designs. Take a look at these and see if any of them work for you," I said.

"I really like this one," she said. "I like that it says 'Peace' on it."

"Not gonna happen," I sniped. "I don't think we ever will have real peace."

"It depends on what kind of peace you mean," she replied. "I don't think we will have world peace, but I believe we can have a kind of personal, inner peace."

I could not argue with this. It was exactly what I meant in my own snarky way. I can't explain why I wasn't in the mood to help her when she walked in, or why my attitude changed after talking to her for a couple minutes.

"I'm sure you're tired of hearing stories from people my age," she said.

This was just the opening I needed-charm time! I looked at her and said, "I don't know what you mean by, 'people your age,' but I love to hear stories. I would never ask your age, but I would guess you at fifty-two."

"Fifty-two! Why, young man, I am seventy-four! I am one of seventeen children. I am from Virginia. We didn't have a lot, but every year each of us was permitted to pick one thing we wanted for Christmas. We would spend weeks flipping through the Sears and Speigel catalogs. It was the biggest decision we had to make all year. Sure, we would get small stuff, but we each only got one big present. My parents made sure that the thing we picked from the catalog was under the tree, so you can understand how big of a decision this was."

I nodded as she continued, "One year, I asked for a satin blouse and a taffeta skirt. My mother asked me where I would wear such an outfit. I told her I didn't know, but that was the one thing I wanted more than anything that year. I tried that outfit on every day after school. I would try it on, look at myself in the mirror, take it off and put it away. I had that outfit long after I grew out of it. I even hung it on the wall, so I could see it and remember the love and sacrifice that my parents made each year."

She told me about how each of her siblings would make things for each other. She told me she still had some of those presents-a bag knitted by her sister, and a trinket whittled by her brother. By this time, I had told her about a card promotion in the store, partly because I wanted to sell a couple more cards, but mostly because I wanted to hear more stories. It was, after all, 8:00 AM on Black Friday, and people weren't exactly knocking down our doors to buy greeting cards.

She took me up on my offer to pick out a few more cards, and I showed her to the sympathy section. She explained why she needed a sympathy card, and then continued with another story.

"I was a teacher in Newark for years. The principal of the school became a very close friend. Several years ago, he was diagnosed with cancer. Eventually, the doctors told him he needed to go into hospice. Since he had no family, or anyone left, I went and sat with him every day. We talked, and he would tell me to go out and have a life-that I had better things to do than sit and watch him die. I told him that he had given so much to me, and this was the least I could do. I asked him as a mentor and a friend, 'If you could give me one piece of advice, what would it be?' He answered almost immediately: 'Do as much good to as many people as you possibly can.' I have tried to do that every day. If someone is a few cents short at the grocery store, or if someone needs something that I can help with, I do. As much as possible."

I told her that I still had contact with a junior high school guidance counselor, and speaking from my personal perspective, teachers and counselors have a huge impact on students' lives, even if they are never told. I can remember almost all of the teachers I ever had, and that was twenty years ago.

I walked with the customer toward the front of the store, as she told me another story. Her neighbors above her, a man, woman, and two kids are loud, she said. Sometimes, they just really irritate her. She decided she would try to "kill them with kindness." She began talking to the boy, who is about ten years old. She asked him about school and sports. She asked about things going on in his life, mostly as she walked across the yard from the street to the front door. One day, just last week, she had several bags, and just as she got to the door, the little boy held the door for her and helped her with her packages. His father saw that and was shocked. She told the boy's father that he was a little gentleman, and his father should be proud of him. She mentioned to me that she hoped some of this kindness would rub off on the father. She also said that she was trying this kindness thing in the hopes that maybe this family would realize how loud they had been and maybe they would quiet down a bit.

I asked her if they had quieted down after the door -holding incident, and she said, "Well, they have a house upstate, and they sometimes go there for the weekend. They are there now."

I gently pointed out to her that it worked. She looked at me and realized just as I began to say that if the family was gone, even for just the weekend, they were quieter, and she got her wish!

As I rang up her order, she continued with the stories. Her sister, who has dementia, is being cared for by a neice. Her brother, who is now deceased, was her idol. The stories would have continued all day, but there were other people who needed cards. As we wrapped up our conversation, she looked at me, extended her hand, and said, "My name is Carol." I sure hope Carol comes back soon. It was such a pleasure to meet someone who has such an inner, personal peace.