Recognizing frustration in others....

...and trying to keep your own attitude in check.

On Easter Sunday I was early for our family rendezvous at a restaurant near Greene, so I stopped at a Big Box store to walk the pup. After causing a racket of frantic barking when every car-bound dog noticed another of their clan was FREE (albeit leashed) in the sunshine, I put Molly back and wandered into the garden center. Which was a mistake. I figured I was safe because I already had pansies for the cat facility window boxes (and I don't invest in any other annuals anymore) but then I noticed the bleeding hearts. It occurred to me that I didn't have any bleeding hearts at all on the farm, and they would be perfect for the cat garden, which is damp and shaded.

The plants were a little under-watered. They weren't entirely dry, but given that most were in bloom and they are a fairly delicate plant, water is pretty much what gives them any rigidity at all. I carefully picked out two plants that had buds rather than flowers. As I used to manage a greenhouse and have some gardening experience, I'm fairly familiar with what plants are best to get in bloom, and which are better to purchase while they are still growing, if you wish to enjoy them.

I cheerfully paid for them and because the plants were facing ten hours in a warm car, asked if I could water them before I left.

Oh, mistake.

The cashier gave me sort of a surprised, guilty, and almost offended look. Oops! Even though I had been pleased and smiling (how can you not smile when you have just gifted yourself with plants) I realized I apparently had made a mistake. I discovered quickly that there was no spigot and hose I could quickly step to myself to water my plants before I left. Instead, the garden center has a water cart, which luckily was close by.

The cashier called out to the woman manning the water cart, announcing that "this lady would like her plants watered." The water cart person also straightened up with just the slightest flash of affront, and then quickly cast her eyes around the garden center.

Then I "got it." By asking for water, I had insinuated the plants were dry and they were not doing their jobs. And this was something they had apparently been reprimanded for, many times, by someone. Even, it was likely, when the plants were not dangerously dry, but were just between waterings.

It was clear that a customer suggesting a plant needed water, no matter how politely, was not a good thing.

I walked over with my two plants and the water cart person took them from me and said "They aren't really dry." She started scooping soil out of the plants. Almost violently, down about four inches into the pot. "See? They are moist. See?"

I realized we also apparently had a group of employees who probably were managed in a rather heavy-handed manner. I could just hear the "don't get me in trouble, lady" tone in her voice. The soil-scooping seemed not to be for my benefit, but for some other audience. I began to wonder if there were video cameras somewhere.

She clearly wasn't a rude person, but something about her was giving off paranoid vibes that began to make her seem rude.

She watered the plants. And then, loudly, she said "These don't have many flowers. There are plants with far more flowers started than these, you know." Again, that tone. The tone of a woman who perhaps had been ordered about by customers demanding help picking out forty marigolds with as many blooms as possible? ("No, not that one. THAT one!")

I wasn't hearing "Here, is this helpful to you?" I was hearing "See everybody? I'm being HELPFUL!" And I began to wonder what it was like to work there everyday if this is what it did to you.

I instantly knew that saying "Actually, with delicate perennials that are going to be stressed by travel, it's better not to choose a plant with a lot of mature flowers" would probably not be a good idea. So I just smilingly said "These are fine. Thanks for watering them. They are going to be in the car while visiting my mom for awhile so I wanted to be sure they didn't dry out if it got too warm."

Surely if anyone was around to overhear, that would take care of the "customer thinks the plants aren't properly cared for" vibes?

She came back with "Really. How long ARE you visiting your mother?"

Interpreting human conversation is always such a joy. Had she said "How nice! How long will you be visiting? Would you be able to set them outside the car if it gets too hot?" she would clearly be communicating her concern for my plant investment. But instead I was still getting the "you'd have to be driving for three days for this plant to really dry out" vibrations off her.

She finished watering the plants, hoisted them up and opened her mouth and I said "And it's fine if they drip. I have a plastic bag I can put them in in the car" (even though I didn't) and her mouth immediately snapped shut. Apparently I had correctly identified her next concern for my watering decision.

For those who have been behind me in Walmart while I mutter angrily to myself after having my receipt checked to be sure I haven't shoplifted eight bags of cat litter (you know who you are!) I am proud to announce that my outlook on life has improved such that I did not make any parking-lot comments when the plants failed to drip at all during my walk to my car -- evidence that they indeed needed their extra shot of water. Instead I continued to experience that mild curiosity about what would make those employees so paranoid that their customer service was worse--not better, when confronted with a simple request.

Sadly, I failed to keep my mouth shut at the crowded buffet later that day, when people headed back and forth between the buffet line and their own tables got backed up because the restaurant had placed one large table right in the traffic zone. Because I have this problem with letting things that run through my mind spill out my mouth, I said aloud to myself "well, THAT table should go"--right behind an overworked server, who sort of turned her overworked head back toward me and said "Well, when you are serving 600 people, you need all the tables you can get."

(This is probably the kind of comment I would have made in the same situation)

Oh HOW I wanted to say "Well, perhaps you shouldn't be trying to seat 600 people if your restaurant won't fit them" but instead realized that probably 700 people had called for reservations over the past two months, and probably at least 50 of them had whined rudely about not getting a seat so I said "Yes, and I'm sure it's hard to tell how the traffic pattern is going to work out until people actually get here and start serving themselves" instead of a snarky "How many years have you guys been having this Easter buffet? Shouldn't you have it down by now?"

She smiled, recognizing that I was trying to cool down my unwise comment. I smiled, recognizing that she was accepting my unspoken apology. Kindred spirits.

Besides, the food was excellent, the location was convenient, the servers were wonderful, and who the heck really cares if you spend an extra ten seconds letting people through a bottleneck? It's Easter! Smile, say "Hi!" and keep your lip buttoned, Susan!

Really, my friends, I'm TRYING to get better! Someday I shall be one of those wise old women who just nod their heads knowingly, but who manage to also have a look on their face that accurately but somehow politely communicates their approval or disdain.

I'm not there yet. I may need a couple more decades to get even close.