The store hired a new cashier––a college-educated white guy in his early forties. He's an artist, a musician, and a regular customer––he buys LP records––but turns out he's green in the ways of the store. (I sensed that--not sure I'd have hired him myself, but I think a lot of good could come of it.)
He gave me a ride home yesterday, his second day.
As I was getting into his car in the parking lot, the passengers in the car next to us became agitated. I could see through the open window that the driver of the car looked unconscious.
His friends were yelling, trying unsuccessfully to rouse him. A woman got out and began digging through the full trunk of the car.
I'd noticed a syringe on the ground outside the car, so I guessed the driver was overdosing.
I got out of the car again and asked the friends if I should call 911.
"Yes! Call 911!"
Turns out, the friends had already administered Narcan ("naloxene", to reverse the effects of opioids), but the guy wasn't responding. The woman was looking for more in the trunk, but there was none.
(And the store doesn't have any. This is the second overdose I've seen outside the store in 16 months. Maybe we'll get some now.)
I love 911 workers. They talk in a flat, neutral tone, which brings my blood pressure down. They passed me to a paramedic who stayed on the line with me till the police came into sight, which happened just after the driver snapped back to consciousness.
I'd hear Narcan works like magic, and, wow, yeah:
the driver went from looking like he was near death (as I suppose he was), to being wide awake . . . and eager to drive away.
His friends piled back in the car and they were heading out of the parking lot just as the cops were pulling in, blocking the way.
My coworker had already pulled out of the lot, so I joined him.
I didn't see any reason to stay. I'm assuming the driver knew not to admit to anything, and the cops had no need to help and no reason to hold him.
It looked like it might get ugly though.
The driver was a raggedy, angry-looking black man [he'd been yelling at his friends], and the white cop was walking toward his blocked car like John Wayne––not conciliatory body language...
I thought, "This is going to escalate".
Sigh. You see it over and over--we make things worse when we respond with fear-aggression.
I wasn't thinking too much of all this, since it turned out OK.
For me, the intense part was the drive home.
My new coworker was freaking out, reasonably enough.
"That was intense!" he said. "I've got to wonder, what have I got myself into at this job?"
I laughed sympathetically. "Yeah, welcome to the 'hood."
It's like there's a script for well-meaning, college-educated white people, and all the way home, he was reciting it.
"I'm not x/y/z, but...;
Why don't they...?;
I'm nice; Where's the common human decency?; I didn't do anything to them..."
Basically it's all like, "Why aren't they more like me? I am the standard bearer of what humans should be."
I get it! He was displaying his cognitive programming. I recognize it in myself, as a white person.
I'm super glad we could talk. I'm helpfully reminded of where so many of my people [white people] are coming from, and I get practice staying open-hearted toward a person whose perspective often makes me tense up, close down.
I like him, and even though he was using phrases from a script, I respect that he was talking in pain and confusion, trying to figure things out. He doesn't push my buttons like those people I've written about who don't realize that they see everything from a one-point perspective:
Their own.
[UPDATE: Sad to say, he actually got worse in the coming days...]
So, I offered things to him that have helped me.
I don't know... I tried not to lecture. But I was pretty revved up... Still, I kept repeating that everyone has to find the way that suits them. (This guy is a Christian, so it helped I could use some of that language.)
"I see our customers like Jesus on a bad day," I said.
Everyone's vulnerable. Look at every one, and all our coworkers too, as vulnerable people.
"Give it some time. Don't judge--go in curious.
Stay curious.
Soften your heart.
You are the guest in this world--act like the guest, not a social worker here to 'fix' people.
"Saint Vincent de Paul said, 'Go to the poor, they will be your teachers.'*
Don't be the teacher, be the student. Don't try to teach people 'how to behave'---they've been taught.
They've been taught.
Mr. Furniture knows what it's like to spend ten years in a cell about the size of your car.
"This 'common human decency' you talk about---it's not so common, not to a lot of our customers. They're at the bottom of the heap. They've been hurt.
And hurt people hurt people, so keep being kind,
but don't expect them to treat you well."
"Then what am I doing here???" he said.
"You want to be a saint, don't you?" I said.
[What? Does he??? I have no idea!
But he's an artist and a musician--in my mind, that's related.]
"You want to experience all the ways of being human, right? You want to be able to write a song from their perspective, not yours?
You know yours.
Learn theirs."
He had to go pick his kids up from school, so that was as far as we got, but he emailed later to say thanks, I'd given him a lot to think about.
He also said he's surprised and chagrined to realize how much he has been "slumbering". "I thought I knew the score," he said.
So. Maybe I just offered a string of platitudes––a counter script to his––but applied to Life at the Store, both scripts do mean something. And because we share a similar class/race, I think we understood each other.
It will be interesting to see how we carry on.
________________
* Now I can't find that St. Vincent said that exactly, but he said stuff along those lines.
I was thinking, too, of his most famous "quote", which he also didn't say [it's from Jean Anouilh’s screenplay for the 1947 film, Monsieur Vincent ], but which fits perfectly.
He gave me a ride home yesterday, his second day.
As I was getting into his car in the parking lot, the passengers in the car next to us became agitated. I could see through the open window that the driver of the car looked unconscious.
His friends were yelling, trying unsuccessfully to rouse him. A woman got out and began digging through the full trunk of the car.
I'd noticed a syringe on the ground outside the car, so I guessed the driver was overdosing.
I got out of the car again and asked the friends if I should call 911.
"Yes! Call 911!"
Turns out, the friends had already administered Narcan ("naloxene", to reverse the effects of opioids), but the guy wasn't responding. The woman was looking for more in the trunk, but there was none.
(And the store doesn't have any. This is the second overdose I've seen outside the store in 16 months. Maybe we'll get some now.)
I love 911 workers. They talk in a flat, neutral tone, which brings my blood pressure down. They passed me to a paramedic who stayed on the line with me till the police came into sight, which happened just after the driver snapped back to consciousness.
I'd hear Narcan works like magic, and, wow, yeah:
the driver went from looking like he was near death (as I suppose he was), to being wide awake . . . and eager to drive away.
His friends piled back in the car and they were heading out of the parking lot just as the cops were pulling in, blocking the way.
My coworker had already pulled out of the lot, so I joined him.
I didn't see any reason to stay. I'm assuming the driver knew not to admit to anything, and the cops had no need to help and no reason to hold him.
It looked like it might get ugly though.
The driver was a raggedy, angry-looking black man [he'd been yelling at his friends], and the white cop was walking toward his blocked car like John Wayne––not conciliatory body language...
I thought, "This is going to escalate".
Sigh. You see it over and over--we make things worse when we respond with fear-aggression.
I wasn't thinking too much of all this, since it turned out OK.
For me, the intense part was the drive home.
My new coworker was freaking out, reasonably enough.
"That was intense!" he said. "I've got to wonder, what have I got myself into at this job?"
I laughed sympathetically. "Yeah, welcome to the 'hood."
It's like there's a script for well-meaning, college-educated white people, and all the way home, he was reciting it.
"I'm not x/y/z, but...;
Why don't they...?;
I'm nice; Where's the common human decency?; I didn't do anything to them..."
Basically it's all like, "Why aren't they more like me? I am the standard bearer of what humans should be."
I get it! He was displaying his cognitive programming. I recognize it in myself, as a white person.
I'm super glad we could talk. I'm helpfully reminded of where so many of my people [white people] are coming from, and I get practice staying open-hearted toward a person whose perspective often makes me tense up, close down.
I like him, and even though he was using phrases from a script, I respect that he was talking in pain and confusion, trying to figure things out. He doesn't push my buttons like those people I've written about who don't realize that they see everything from a one-point perspective:
Their own.
[UPDATE: Sad to say, he actually got worse in the coming days...]
So, I offered things to him that have helped me.
I don't know... I tried not to lecture. But I was pretty revved up... Still, I kept repeating that everyone has to find the way that suits them. (This guy is a Christian, so it helped I could use some of that language.)
"I see our customers like Jesus on a bad day," I said.
Everyone's vulnerable. Look at every one, and all our coworkers too, as vulnerable people.
"Give it some time. Don't judge--go in curious.
Stay curious.
Soften your heart.
You are the guest in this world--act like the guest, not a social worker here to 'fix' people.
"Saint Vincent de Paul said, 'Go to the poor, they will be your teachers.'*
Don't be the teacher, be the student. Don't try to teach people 'how to behave'---they've been taught.
They've been taught.
Mr. Furniture knows what it's like to spend ten years in a cell about the size of your car.
"This 'common human decency' you talk about---it's not so common, not to a lot of our customers. They're at the bottom of the heap. They've been hurt.
And hurt people hurt people, so keep being kind,
but don't expect them to treat you well."
"Then what am I doing here???" he said.
"You want to be a saint, don't you?" I said.
[What? Does he??? I have no idea!
But he's an artist and a musician--in my mind, that's related.]
"You want to experience all the ways of being human, right? You want to be able to write a song from their perspective, not yours?
You know yours.
Learn theirs."
He had to go pick his kids up from school, so that was as far as we got, but he emailed later to say thanks, I'd given him a lot to think about.
He also said he's surprised and chagrined to realize how much he has been "slumbering". "I thought I knew the score," he said.
So. Maybe I just offered a string of platitudes––a counter script to his––but applied to Life at the Store, both scripts do mean something. And because we share a similar class/race, I think we understood each other.
It will be interesting to see how we carry on.
________________
* Now I can't find that St. Vincent said that exactly, but he said stuff along those lines.
I was thinking, too, of his most famous "quote", which he also didn't say [it's from Jean Anouilh’s screenplay for the 1947 film, Monsieur Vincent ], but which fits perfectly.
"You will find out that Charity is a heavy burden to carry, heavier than the kettle of soup and the full basket. But you will keep your gentleness and your smile.
It is not enough to give soup and bread. This the rich can do. You are the servant of the poor, always smiling and good-humored.
They are your masters, terribly sensitive and exacting master you will see and the uglier and the dirtier they will be, the more unjust and insulting, the more love you must give them.
It is only for your love alone that the poor will forgive you the bread you give to them."
Good that he is thinking
ReplyDeleteSounds like you gave your co-worker just the right things to think about. Good reminders for the rest of us too. Intense. You see it all there. And I sure hope your store does get some Narcan: it would be "the Christian thing" to have on hand.
ReplyDeleteGZ: Yes, it's very good my coworker is thinking and making me think too!
ReplyDeleteBINK: I signed up Big Boss and me to attend an Opioid Education event in a couple weeks,
and are looking into getting Narcan, so hopefully good will come of this.
It is intense!
Wow! What a scary situation. It's great you'll (hopefully) be getting some Narcan in case this happens again in the future. It sounds like you and the co-worker had a meaningful conversation to help debrief afterwards, which is admirable -- people are often too defensive to admit their flaws and shortcomings, and it sounds like your co-worker realizes he has some. (As do we all!)
ReplyDelete