When did every young person between the ages of say 18 and 30 become programmed to say the same thing over and over again? And no, I'm not talking about the incessant use of the word LIKE; that battle was lost a generation ago.
I go to the grocery store and the kid bagging invariably says, "have a good one" on my way out. Same thing at Dunkin' Donuts, and the movie theater. Apparently, any other form of goodbye is punishable by fine. Call me cranky, but I would rather they say nothing than spit out the same tired phrase.
Today, I went to Cumberland Farms. They have a new thing where you can bring your shrink wrapped sub or sandwich up to the counter and they will heat it up for you. The kid took the sub out of my hand to put in the oven, and said "have a good one." Even though he was going to have to hand it back to me in three minutes after it was heated.
I'm not looking for five star customer service at a convenience store or coffee shop, but the "yoots" of America have to start mixing up their banal pleasantries.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
A Little Guy's Feelings Finally Shared
My father died on May 20th at the age of 88. My son was and is still 8 years old. Tonight, for the first time since the day I had to tell him the news, almost five months later, he got very emotional about losing his grandfather.
I was trying to get him to work on his homework and he was acting far more upset about it than a kid normally does when he just doesn't want to have to do work. I finally asked him to sit with me and asked him to tell him what was upsetting him. He said he couldn't tell me. At that point a hundred possibilities were running through my head; teacher trouble, bullying, a friend turning on him. He told me he couldn't tell me because it would make ME said, too. At that point I suspected it was about my father (Pop).
He had to choke the word out while trying not to cry anymore, but he said Pop. One of the only times he has seen me cry was when I had to tell him about my father's death. He was afraid it would upset me to hear he was sad about his grandfather. He went on to say he had been thinking about him at night.
I'll never forget it. I told him how much I loved him and how proud I was that he told me. I told him that I always want to know what he was thinking, because maybe I'll be able to help, and that it's better to get it off his chest. I told him it was okay to cry about losing someone, even if you only felt sad every once in awhile and didn't understand why. And, that knowing he cared about Pop made me feel good inside. I promised we'd look at pictures and videos and talk about all of the good times, so we wouldn't think as much about the fact that he was in heaven. I told him that the only grand parent I ever knew died when I was twelve and that I cried for the longest time.
The last thing I told him was that the one thing I'm sure of is that Pop is happy in heaven with his family, that it makes him very happy to know his grandson is thinking about him, and that even though he didn't talk much the last year or two of his life, that he loved his grand kids very much. You never know what's going on inside their heads or making them act the way they do. I hope tonight helps him open up to me more often.
I was trying to get him to work on his homework and he was acting far more upset about it than a kid normally does when he just doesn't want to have to do work. I finally asked him to sit with me and asked him to tell him what was upsetting him. He said he couldn't tell me. At that point a hundred possibilities were running through my head; teacher trouble, bullying, a friend turning on him. He told me he couldn't tell me because it would make ME said, too. At that point I suspected it was about my father (Pop).
He had to choke the word out while trying not to cry anymore, but he said Pop. One of the only times he has seen me cry was when I had to tell him about my father's death. He was afraid it would upset me to hear he was sad about his grandfather. He went on to say he had been thinking about him at night.
I'll never forget it. I told him how much I loved him and how proud I was that he told me. I told him that I always want to know what he was thinking, because maybe I'll be able to help, and that it's better to get it off his chest. I told him it was okay to cry about losing someone, even if you only felt sad every once in awhile and didn't understand why. And, that knowing he cared about Pop made me feel good inside. I promised we'd look at pictures and videos and talk about all of the good times, so we wouldn't think as much about the fact that he was in heaven. I told him that the only grand parent I ever knew died when I was twelve and that I cried for the longest time.
The last thing I told him was that the one thing I'm sure of is that Pop is happy in heaven with his family, that it makes him very happy to know his grandson is thinking about him, and that even though he didn't talk much the last year or two of his life, that he loved his grand kids very much. You never know what's going on inside their heads or making them act the way they do. I hope tonight helps him open up to me more often.
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