It amazes me how perceptions can differ so widely. Yesterday at work I had an encounter with a customer and acted on auto-pilot. It happened all so quickly that as the encounter was coming to an end, I then realized the odd stares I was receiving. I was a bit disturbed, but I didn't break. So this is how the story goes...
A handicapped customer came to my demonstration area and wanted a sample. (The customer was speech impaired, and I quickly realized she could only use her hands to navigate the toggle stick on her wheelchair.)
I asked, "Do you want a sample?"
I heard a muffled, "Yes."
So I said, "OK, I'll get you one."
As I was handing it to her, I realized she could not use her hands to feed herself so I said, "Here, let me feed you, hun."
I started to feed her bites of our Heirloom Tomato Salad and an Eggplant Cutlet. I made sure to make the pieces extra small because she could only open her mouth so wide and couldn't hold her head up very long.
A colleague of mine looked over at us with what seemed like a look of disgust. I kept feeding the customer. Then they just stared at the customer in disbelief.
I asked the woman, "Did you like the salad? It's good, isn't it."
Mumbles came out of her mouth.
My colleague was still staring.
Another customer grabbed a sample from the bar smiled at me, and didn't bother to even glance at the customer I was feeding. It was as if she wasn't even there. The second customer walked straight to the coffee bar as I was feeding the woman, and when she didn't get the amount of coffee she liked she told me, "You better put another coffee out there. This one is low." Again, looking at me straight in the eye, and paying no attention to my actions.
By this time, I noticed a horrid stench. I looked at her wheels and saw dried dog shit piled on. I continued to feed the woman.
My colleague had moved behind the bar and was cleaning, but still staring at the customer awkwardly. Perhaps they thought the stench was coming from the woman?
I waited patiently to serve the woman until the last bite was eaten. I wiped her mouth when she was done and put extra napkins in her Starbucks bag.
I asked again, "Did you like that?"
She looked at me, grinned, rolled her head back, grabbed onto her toggle stick and was off.
--
The caregiver in me came out. It was natural and automatic. I didn't think twice, didn't stop, I just did it. I was shocked at the reactions of my actions, the perceptions of those surrounding the woman in the wheelchair and myself. I was embarrassed for her.
For that small instance, I felt like a mother and a nurse. It reminded me of being my mother's caregiver. [Even though I hardly had to feed my mother because she was extremely independent and rather stubborn at times, wanting to do it all on her own.] I was happy to play that role once again.
Here's what I've taken from that encounter: I truly enjoy helping others. I'm proud of my actions. No matter what perceptions and reactions spun around the woman and I, I'm glad I did what I did. It's what I had to do. It's what I wanted to do. I'd do it all over again if the situation presented itself in the future. I believe, it's our job as humans to take care of ourselves AND one another. It's that simple.
What (or whom) have you taken care of today?
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