“What’s your insurance company?” the lady behind the counter at Walgreens asked.
“Um.” Max wasn’t sure. He was in line to receive his COVID booster shot.
I said, “He has Tricare. They only give us an ID and not an insurance ca . . . ”
“How old is he?!” she interrupted.
“He’s twenty,” I said.
“Then, I need to talk to him!” she said, very angrily.
“I’m his sponsor,” I said. Max is a college student, and we just changed types of insurance when we moved to NC a few months back.
“He’s an adult so I can only talk to him.” She had one of those aiming pointy fingers. She was mad at me and the whole room knew it.
Now, I’ve had bad days that have turned into months then lifetimes. It’s what I’ve been dealt, but at no time have I ever used it to be mean to a person. As a matter of fact, I cannot fathom being unkind to another human, and neither can my kids.
Also, I understand the medical field is a tough one to be part of. Their hours are long, they deal with unkind people all day and night long, and they are putting themselves in harm’s way during this nasty pandemic. I’m grateful for them, but it doesn’t warrant being cruel.
The lady went on to attempt to get information from Max, and although I am the only one who knows the answers, she didn’t allow me to help. I left and walked around the store and he had to come find me for more information.
What I really take out of yesterday’s visit at the Walgreens in Burgaw, NC, is a wondering about why simple rudeness, especially in front of my children, debilitates me so much. It may be constant family gossip growing up, recent estrangements from people I felt safe with that make me insecure, or my general chemistry.
I paid for my granola bars and Udderly Smooth cream at the front desk. The woman there was so kind. I then went to the parking lot and sat in my vehicle waiting for Max. I felt like crying.
“Teresa, for real? You are not going to cry because of one abrasive woman,” I said aloud to myself. “Toughen up.” I felt overly sensitive.
I wondered if I was extra touchy because of the holidays or being tired, but the fact is, I’ve always been super sensitive when people are mean to me. I can’t shake it off, but my shield is even less-protective than it’s ever been. I even feel silly writing about this because when I put it on paper, it seems miniscule amongst the world’s current troubles.
I don’t understand why people can’t be nice. No matter what your day, week, or life hands you, please imagine what it’s like to be on the receiving end of unkindness.
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