My Heart Smote Me

I am not one to vent about a company's lack of customer service. I don't get bent out of shape if they bring me mashed potatoes vs. the baked one I ordered or if my steak isn't cooked exactly right, or even if they skim a few minutes off a massage appointment. I don't post negative reviews on Facebook or other forms of social media, because it goes against my beliefs. While I do believe that we should get what we pay for and don't want to see anyone taken advantage of, I think this issue come down to your faith . I tend to believe that if I don't receive what I am supposed to from whom I should receive it, my Father will make up the difference. He always does.

Unfortunately, I was not myself yesterday. I was tired and having experienced a throbbing pain in my leg all day I was also a bit grumpy. I needed a "service" performed in a timely matter, but I may not have been your ideal customer. That being said, I went to a nail salon to have my gel nails removed. I had only had them on for a short while, but I just felt like having cutting them short and going natural. I explained to the male manicurist (who was young enough to be my son) what I wanted. He disagreed with me and in his distinctly Vietnamese accent said, "No...No..Your hand so petite and so pretty. You need keep your nail. You have beautiful hand." I continued to disagree, but I was given a seat while he finished working with another customer.

To make a long story short, in the course of the events in this experience, I was moved to three different chairs, made to wait an unusually long time to be served--even having a very young, very rude girl be allowed to go ahead of me because "she had to get to work". I was becoming quickly agitated and contemplating leaving. To add to the frustration, I was having to convince my manicurist to provide the very service for which I had come. My manicurist guy could tell I was aggravated. He was becoming nervous trying to quickly finish with the girl who was allowed to go ahead of me and would frequently say, "How you doing over there? You okay? You need anything? Water? Coffee? Just one more minute." I would affirm with the right words, but my body and my face were all the more loudly saying the opposite. He was hearing quite loudly that I was displeased, and frankly (though sadly to admit) I was happy he knew how annoyed I was.

It was in this less than flattering moment that my very patient but quite relentless Father said, "Lisa, look at him!" So, I replied, "God, I have looked at him...for a long time now...too long." (God lets me be me while He is perfecting me) God said, "Lisa, look at him. Look at his face. Do you see his little furrowed brow? Do you see the sweat on his temples? Do you see how frantically  he is working doing repetitive and laborious motions? How old do you think he is, Lisa? How many hours has he worked, today? Has he had lunch? Will have dinner anytime soon? Where is family? Where is his mom? Look at HIM the person not the manicurist, Lisa!"

As I looked at him I realized that he looked younger than my Tyler. I often feel so sorry for my son and how hard works. I realized this was someones son, too. I noticed that though he was a fine looking fellow he had a rather large mole in a prominent and awkward place on his face. I wondered if his peers gave him grief about that...or worse yet if girls did. My heart broke at the thought of him dealing with any negativity from that. He continued to sheepishly look up at me trying to get me to dim the intensity on my glares. It was at one of his nervous glances my way that my heart smote me. I felt a lump in my throat and tears welling up in my eyes. I saw him! God allowed me to love this boy for this moment with some of the love that He had for him.

When it was finally my turn, I began conversing with the young gentleman. He was not able to go to college, because he worked in the nail salon eleven hours a day, six days a week. He told me how awful it was to smell the intense fumes from the nail solutions everyday. I had never thought about smelling that strong smell for 66 hours a week. As it was approaching closing time, more customers continued to enter. I would watch him glance up at them, blink his eyes and quietly say, "Oh no." I finally asked what was wrong. He apologized, but like any young boy he wanted to go home after a long day and do something fun. He realized he would be working more than an eleven hour day, today, because all of these customers would have to be served before he could leave. I asked if he had eaten. He explained that he was hungry but would grab either chicken nuggets or a double cheeseburger on the way home...if he was ever able to leave. I saw him! I even loved him in a way that only God can cause to happen between two strangers. I prayed for him under my breath.

When I left the salon, I grabbed a double cheeseburger and brought it back to him, and said, "As a mother of a son about your age, I would be furious that he had worked that many hours without taking a break to eat." He said, "Oh my God! Thank you!! Thank you!" (Little did he know how correct he was in his proclamation. It was "My God" that did this for him...and just so ya know! I did my nails his way...and I love them!!

“Your greatness is measured by your kindness; your education and intellect by your modesty; your ignorance is betrayed by your suspicions and prejudices, and your real caliber is measured by the consideration and tolerance you have for others.”

—William J.H. Boetcker