She always reminded me of me: the checkout girl at my neighborhood Smart and Final. Thick brown hair, big brown eyes, a bit of meat on her bones, barely a hint of makeup, and, always, a welcoming smile. She could have been my daughter.
“You back again…?” she’d shake her head in mock disapproval when I’d return for the third time in the same day, having forgotten some something I just couldn’t go another day without. It didn’t happen often (in my defense), but, clearly, it happened often enough for her to notice.
And I noticed that I wasn’t the only shopper with whom she shared such banter. Without fail, every time I roamed the store’s aisles, I would hear her shout out a personalized greeting or see her engage in conversation with people of every age, gender, size, race, and marital status. She wasn’t a flirt. She was a true social butterfly without any other agenda than to connect with those who crossed her path.
When she told me, one day, that she had been kicked out onto the streets at the age of 14 and had been fending for herself ever since, I understood how she came to be what some today might call a “people pleaser.” She had to, to survive.
Takes one to know one, I guess. [Read more…]
