What I Wanted to Say

Dear "Friend",

I don't know what kind of person enjoys making an 18-year-old girl cry. That's pretty darn sick. Sick because you could see me shrinking behind the register and the tears beginning to form as you let all of your wrath fall on my small shoulders, and you still kept yelling!!

You said you're so smart at business, and that's why I should let you get the $25 discount you didn't deserve because you didn't renew your membership pass before it expired. If you are the vault of business knowledge that graced my presence that you acted like you were, you should've known better. You should've known that the small, blonde girl with an open expression doesn't write the rules. She's the employee lowest on the totem pole, you idiot!

Um, could you see how embarrassed you made your wife? I can't imagine living with your holiness 24/7. I can't imagine what life you currently live that you feel like chewing out young girls and relishing their tears. I can't imagine what persuaded you, after you saw me duck my face to try and hide my tears, to lean in closer, yell louder and tell me oh-how-smart you were more passionately. SICK. I don't know if you could tell from the fact that my shirt was a different color from the others, I was a little slower, asked questions, had a more vulnerable expression, or the fact that I straight out told you, but I'm new at this job.

Congratulations, you're stupid, and the whole workforce at the Gardens hates you now.

Not respectfully yours,

Karen

P.S. You still got me a five dollar bonus for getting the membership. I win.

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Dear Mother of Josh,

I'm sorry you lost your son. Losing your kid at the Gardens would be miserable--we have over 55 acres and plenty of nooks, crannies and strangers. I could your red face, pinched with worry when you finally ran up to us at the front desk, breathless with the panic of having a lost child. I could see the instant relief that washed over you when you saw him, safe in our possession.

I was sorry for you.

But thanks for giving me the time with him.

After a day with grumpy adults, it meant the world to be able to help a sweet, tear-stained kindergartner feel comforted. I loved telling him I liked his t-shirt and the chance to give him my only bag of chips. I hadn't eaten dinner and wasn't going to be able to sit down all day, so the chips were all I really had. Being able to give it to him felt good; being able to give a little kindness was a blessing.

I loved the success that I felt when I was able to get him to talk to me; when all hesitancy vanished and he flashed a huge smile at me. I loved sitting with him and stamping the admission hand stamps on our hands over and over until we were thoroughly tulip tattooed. I liked letting him have the chance to use up the last juice on my phone playing games.

I especially loved how, when you finally appeared and I whispered, "You should give your picture to your mom!" he worked feverishly. You called to him, trying to scold but your voice betraying your relief. Maybe you'll never know, but the reason he didn't respond to you then was because he was trying to make sure your picture was absolutely perfect. He was stamping the tulip stamp vehemently, and he sparkled with anticipation of his gift.

When he gave it to you, thanks for appreciating it. I know your emotions were running high, but thanks for pausing to relish his picture. He made it for you. That was the true mark of your love: being able to look past your fear and see his love for you in his little offering.

Thanks. You have a darling son.

Karen

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Dear you; you who didn't fuss when I couldn't let you use your coupons the way you wanted to, who asked me how I was doing before I could ask you, who took the time to smile and really see me, who washed away the grumpiness of the customer before you, who were patient, kind and understanding...

Thank you.