ZIP IT!

There are times when I seriously have to consider my audience.

While at the store, I was talking out loud to myself while an employee stocked product. She was probably in her early twenties. (Before I continue, the answer is, yes. I often talk to myself while working. The subject is always a surprise, at least until it falls out of my mouth.)

I began by stating, “You have to be smarter than the box you’re building.” No joke. I said this. You see, it was I that was wrestling with the cardboard, trying desperately to fold the box on the provided creases and struggling to make it pretty for product. “I swear, I have two degrees and none of them taught me about box building.”

She didn’t laugh.

I had gotten to the point of construction where if I were in my home, first I would had poured myself a high-octane beer, and second, the swearing and box-kicking would had started. But I was in a well-lit establishment with far too many camera phones that could easily upload my anxiety-box-breakdown on social media. I had to keep it cool.

“Life doesn’t always work out the way you want it,” I continued talking out loud to avoid the rampage of poor box-building brewing in my veins.

She said she was starting to learn that exact concept.

I didn’t look at her when she spoke, which means I couldn’t tell you if her shoulders fell from recalling failure, because I was too busy trying to stop my bleeding fingers from disfiguring the pretty display I still fought with. Despite my lack of observation, I kept the conversation going.

“If you want to be a millionaire, you’ll need a plan. I had a plan once. It failed miserably. But the trick is to buck up and figure out a new plan. And when nothing is still going right, you’ll need to learn how to cry pretty, even when no one is looking.”

She cut my key-note speech short. “Cry pretty?” she interrupted.

“Sure. That way, if someone walks into your pity party, you can gather yourself quickly—like nothing ever happened.”

We were in close proximity, but I had no idea if others were listening to our half-conversation. Did it matter? Does anyone ever listen to my rambling anyway?

 “Ta-da!” I raised my arms up in victory formation, ignoring her momentarily. I won. I beat the stupid red display box, which hid the blood stains from my fingertips. It stood erect. Heck, it even held the product. Life was good. Real good. 

When I looked in her direction, she seemed down. Was it something I said? Maybe I should say something, something positive, like life sucks, get over it. No. Something smarter maybe. Hmm. I hope I didn’t ruin her day with my mindless chatter.

“That is a beautiful display,” I pointed to my hard work and did a little dance in the aisle. She agreed with me, though I didn’t feel her heart was really into my satisfaction. It’s official. I went on talking and rambling in an indirect way about my own disappointments in life, not thinking about how I was affecting someone else.

I continued stocking product realizing there was still an opportunity to turn this young woman’s spirit around. “You watched me battle with this box for literally twenty minutes while you went on working. I don’t think life is any different. We watch people struggle all the time, but we still have to complete our own tasks and they have to complete theirs. We have to finish our jobs…whatever that job might be.” I placed the last bag of chocolate on the makeshift shelf. “And somehow, even without your help, I accomplished something, right?”

She nodded. Her eyes relaxed and the stress seemed to disappear slightly. “We all gotta do what we gotta do. It’s that simple.” I smiled and concluded our conversation with, “I’ll let you print the price tickets, because right now I gotta build more of these evil boxes.” I started to walk away, but stopped and turned toward her. “At least I’ve learned from that disaster,” pointing at the display, “I’ll get it done in five minutes next time.”