When the Time Comes, You'll Know What to Say, (or, alternately: Just When You Thought Your Job Was Meaningless)

Ok. That title is dramatic. If you've read even one of my customer-encounter-related posts over the years, you know I have never thought of my job this way. Any job. I managed to scrounge up some life lessons when I was a cashier at a BP gas station in Westlake, Ohio, of all places. There is always meaning to be found.

Sometimes, I forget to look.

Recently, I'd forgotten. I was caught up in the minutiae of workplace social drama, adjusting to several recent personnel changes, and neglecting to focus on one of the parts of my job I enjoy the most: customer interactions.

Then recently a customer came in to request some old mortgage paperwork, which he said he needed to present at court. When I heard the court part, I asked if he was going through a divorce.

I know. I probably shouldn't have asked. There are people who will be horrified to know I asked this question.

But you know one thing I've learned in my years on this job? If you're asking, they're sharing. Not ALL people, of course. One can quickly gauge who are the very private people who don't want to share. A woman does not ask *those* people (forgive me; I've been binge watching Game of Thrones.)

I find that most people do want to share. Most people want somebody to take an interest in their lives. They feel paradoxically anonymous in our bank setting. Yes I may already know everything about their finances (no use trying to hide), but I don't know them. I am automatically prohibited from crossing certain lines because of the professional parameters (I can't gossip about them to their neighbors or sisters-in-law, for example). Somehow, this dynamic creates a safe place for people to share all manner of personal details: persistent incontinence issues; wildly dramatic familial plot unfoldings; intricate legal proceedings; love found, love profoundly lost.

This is incredibly fascinating for a people-watcher like me. A voyeur like me.

"Yes I am," the customer responded [going through a divorce].

He was clearly stressed. Troubled is more like it.

Ooooh, I knew the feeling well. I'd lived it every day of the year and a half it took for my divorce to be finalized. There were too many unknowns (especially the custody part) to ever sleep easily or quiet the mind. There was too much hanging in the balance.

The weight of a similar pressure was visible on this man's face, audible in the shakiness of his voice.

We talked for a while and I shared with him versions of the most salient pieces of advice my Mom gave me during my lowest periods, namely: "When you're going through Hell, keep going," and "Life will be sweet again." This second one was tricky. I can't really say that short sentence aloud without tearing up. I remember vividly the moment my Mom said it to me, as well as I remember both the defeat I felt at how far from sweetness I was in that moment and the deeper knowledge that she was right. I KNEW that on the other end of the pain I was feeling would be a life better than I could dream of at the time. I knew it then just as I am living it now. Life is, indeed, sweet again. Sweeter than ever before.

It's difficult to convey all that to a stranger who came in asking for mortgage paperwork.

You don't.

I didn't exactly.

I shared what felt appropriate at the time and what was comfortable in the setting.

And he was open as well. At one point, in near tears, he said, "but the children will want to know what happened. They will want to know why we got divorced. They will ask."

Ooooh did I know this one as well. My son was barely 2 when my divorce was finalized. He has no memory of our togetherness and only recently (as in, last month) asked the question, a conversation he opened with this: "Mama, who's your favorite person that you've married?" (!!!!!)

Following that doozy (which I artfully or not-so-artfully sidestepped), he asked why his father and I "got unmarried."

It was a moment I'd dreaded for a long time. There were so many things I knew he wouldn't understand until he was much older, and so many reasons why I wouldn't want to tell him any of the details in the first place. I'd always wondered what I would say, if and when he ever asked.

When the time came, my response was simple: that sometimes people have a difficult time getting along, but that the reasons don't matter now. What matters is that his father and I both love him more than anything in the world, that his father is happy, that he is happy, that I am happy.

Hugging my sweet monkey following my recent wedding , 6 years after my divorce.

To my surprise and my joy, I found this was all I needed to say to him. It may not be the case that this covers all his questions, but it truly is all he'll ever need to know on that topic. And I will need to continue to model for him what loving relationships look like, relationships of all kind. But that is all.

I shared this with the customer. I told him that when that time came, he would have the right words. He would know what needed to be said.

And saying it to the customer is what brought clarity about it for me. All that worry I'd had about how to explain my divorce to my son? It was all for naught. It didn't matter. All that mattered was love, and love, and love. And forgiveness.

But that part--the forgiveness part--was just for me.

***

Many, many moments of my day are filled with mundane tasks, work-related or otherwise. That is true for everyone.

But now and then somebody comes along, a topic comes to the surface to remind me of what the hell we're doing it all for.

When that customer left, mortgage paperwork in hand, I felt my heart sing. I felt like I'd been reminded and reinvigorated.

We're all just a bunch of fools trying to feel our ways through this life. When we need help, we reach out to those who have been there or who know some things about some things. When we know some things about some things, we share with those who are reaching out for help.

And when our children ask for answers to ridiculously complicated questions, we simply remember that love is and will always be the answer they need most of all.