[SB] Sabbath Blessing

[Molly Wolf]

The Doughnut Shop

Three teenaged kids were handling service at the doughnut shop. A boy with 
earphones was holding down the drive-through window; a second boy with a 
trainee badge was doing routine stuff behind the counter, and a small, 
slight teenaged girl with fair hair and big anxious eyes was trying to 
straighten things out with two customers -- a middle-aged man and woman in 
designer-label duds -- who had a complaint. I was standing with a friend 
who was waiting to order her coffee. The discussion at the cash was 
low-voiced, and my friend and I were talking instead of listening in, so we 
had no idea what the problem was. There was much comparing of cash register 
receipts and the talking went on for quite some time, as the line of 
customers got longer and longer. The girl's voice was conciliatory and 
apologetic; the couple's voices were low but firm. In the end, they walked 
away, and the girl called out afterwards, "I'm sorry!" "She's not nearly as 
sorry as she's going to be," the woman said to the man, quite audibly and 
with an air of grim determination. And the girl fled to the back room, in 
tears.

My friend and I looked at each other, and we traded glances with the next 
customer in line, all of us thinking quite loudly, "I don't like the sound 
of that." Store clerks and waitstaff -- all who work for minimum wage and 
serve the public -- are so vulnerable to abuse. A complaint to the store 
manager might cost this girl her job, something the girl herself knew all 
too well.  I have another friend, a sales clerk, who doesn't dare protest 
the impossible working hours imposed on her by a hostile store manager 
because she can't afford to lose her job. I've worked retail; I've been on 
the receiving end. The customer may be always right, but the customer is 
also sometimes bonkers.

The couple's attitude, I'd guess, was that the matter hadn't been resolved 
to their satisfaction and someone was going to have to answer for that. It 
didn't matter that whatever the sum in question was, it had to be under $10 
and likely under $5, given doughnut shop prices.  What mattered was the 
principle of the thing.  They wanted (they'd say) simple justice. They'd 
been wronged and someone had to pay.

But what would justice look like in a case like this? Would it occur to 
them that losing your job over a less-than-$10 mistake isn't exactly just? 
Would it occur to them that maybe this was just an honest mistake and that 
exacting a wrongful-doing type "justice" for an honest mistake is 
unjust?  Would it cross their minds that they were well-to-do and powerful, 
compared to this helpless child -- that the balance of power was seriously 
askew? Would they remember times when they'd screwed up and had been let 
off the hook, because everybody's gone through that at some point? Not 
likely. To insist on "justice" in a case like this, we pretty much have to 
ignore a great deal of reality, because otherwise we're going to bump up 
against the fact that we're not after justice, really: we're being 
vindictive.

Maybe there are people out there who can be honestly vindictive and happy 
with themselves -- I'm sure there are, in fact. But most of us like to 
think of ourselves as being nice guys, and to be vindictive nice guys 
involves a whole lot of cognitive dissonance, because the two just don't go 
together, culturally speaking. Tough guys *might* be vindictive, but even 
that doesn't quite cut it: we're more likely to think of tough guys as 
being crusaders for justice, protectors of those in need of protection.  In 
some quarters, ruthlessness is greatly admired, but picking on a teenaged 
doughnut shop clerk hardly qualifies. Ruthlessness requires a worthy 
opponent. Flat-out vindictiveness belongs with the black-hat crowd, and 
we'd prefer our headgear to be at worst a middling grey, not just to please 
our own egos, but because vindictiveness makes people look at us funny.

And so we're apt to play mindgames with ourselves when we're acting 
vindictively, usually by ignoring the whole picture and concentrating on 
the fragment that concerns us most nearly and casts the worst possible 
light on the party of the second part. That way, we can get the 
satisfaction of hurting the person who offended us without losing a bit of 
self-esteem or the good opinion of others.

The problem with that way of working is that we are seen by One who keeps 
all the facts in mind -- and I mean *all* the facts -- and who sees the 
biggest of big pictures with a clarity none of us can ever muster. That One 
is completely just and sees, as we refuse to see, the consequence of our 
actions in space and time. That One does hold us accountable for the 
choices we make. It would be a small but pleasant choice for the couple to 
have said to the girl, "It's no big deal; don't worry about it. Everybody 
makes mistakes -- we certainly have." Which is how such small matters 
really should be handled.

The choices we make don't only have an impact on those who our decisions 
directly affect; they also have consequences for our own souls. Choosing 
vindictiveness and the dishonesty that makes it possible to be both 
vindictive and a "nice guy" is a soul-choice; it is a turning away from 
both Love and the Light. It is not a minor booboo; it is a choice with 
long-term consequences for which we shall be called to answer.  And yes, 
those around us can see this. A "nice guy" who acts vindictively is going 
to lose respect.

Such a small incident, but it unfolds into so much larger issues.... Above 
all, it makes me look at my own deep desire to inflict a little pain on a 
person who has wronged and hurt me very badly and realize that no, it's not 
on. Not if I want to claim to be a Christian. I understand that real 
forgiveness is going to take a whole lot of time and it can't be hurried. 
The feelings are there and I have to be honest about them.  But I don't 
have to act on them.

My friend got her coffee. I found a slip of paper in my purse and wrote 
down my name and phone number and a brief note that the girl had handled a 
difficult situation courteously and well, and I gave it to the trainee to 
pass on to her and the store manager. If nothing else, it would make her 
feel better. It was the least I could do.


http://spindlegeek.blog-city.com/


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I'm about to hit some sacred cows, and they moo so badly. -- Phyllis 
Tickle, aka The Divine Miz T.