Be More Like Emmie

The other day was proper freaking bad for me. Life is hard, and it has been relentlessly delivering steady blows lately. I’ve been mid-crisis for a hot minute now, and little did I know, my dear friend Depression was just about to nestle in making me hyper-sensitive.

In the middle of another long, hard, emotional day running around trying to get business squared away, I realized that I hadn’t eaten, and I was approximately thirty minutes from death. Dramatic flair is one of my best qualities. So, I parked The Cooper and hiked my way to the closest spot to grab a bite, which happens to be a trendy, modern day food-courtesque establishment with plenty of options.

I walked in and immediately started scouring menus, looking for something that wouldn’t be a wildly unhealthy, regrettable choice. It was also almost four in the afternoon, so dinner would be soon. A creature of habit, I decided on the place I typically frequent, which sells grain bowls, salads, smoothies, etc.

As I’m looking at the menu trying to quickly decide what will pass as good enough to keep me alive, the small-statured, young girl behind the counter stops what she is doing to very kindly and softly greet me. Preoccupied, I asked how she was doing and then ordered my smoothie while pulling out my wallet. Multi-tasking, she put in my order and complimented my outfit, admiring my shirt. Mustering all the kindness I had in my body at the moment, I thanked her, quickly paid, and ducked off into a secluded area while I waited.

I sat there thinking about my day stressing over what to do next. I became overwhelmed with emotion and began to cry. I couldn’t complete a thought. I was officially burnt out. Fear of failure has caused me to be unable to stop working since the moment I started my company. What is a good night’s sleep?

Anyway, I tried to keep my composure, but the tears were flowing. I was out of view from others and close to an exit, so I plotted a quick escape. In view of the counter, the girl motioned to get my attention and hand me the smoothie. I acknowledged her and paused for a second hoping she would set it down and walk away. I didn’t want her to see my tears. Of course, she didn’t do that.

She politely waited for me to grab it from her. So, I made it quick, trying not to look her in the face, I said thank you and bolted out the door. As I rushed out, I heard her kind voice telling me to have a good day. Immediately, I felt guilty for not expressing the warmth and appreciation she deserved, but my face was literally melting, and I needed to get home. I chugged the smoothie, replacing my hunger with brain freeze.

As soon as I was safe inside my apartment, I quickly changed into sweatpants and a hoodie and laid directly on the floor. Eyes on the ceiling, back on my plushiest rug, I existed in silence while I waited for my thoughts to shut up. The depression got cozy, so I decided that I would too. It was time to finally take a minute to do nothing. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at my phone. I needed to find some peace. So, I spent the night mindlessly consuming television until it was time for bed.

As I laid in bed, eyes swollen, happy to be closed, my mind wandered back to my encounter with the young girl. She was so kind to me in the most genuine way. Our interaction was basic and minimal, but it had made such an impact that I was still thinking about it despite all the other shit swirling in my head. It was in that moment, right before I fell asleep, that I decided I was going to go see her again at the same time the next day and thank her for being so kind.

 Fast-forward to the following day at almost four in the afternoon, I made my way back in to see if she was there, and she was. As I approached, I recognized her light pink and blonde hair. She was standing in the same spot doing the same thing she was the day prior. She greeted me the exact same way she already had: genuine and pleasant as a peach.

She didn’t recognize me at first. I had to tell her that I was in the day before and ordered a smoothie. She quickly remembered and welcomed me back. I apologized for being abrupt as I was in the middle of a particularly bad day, and told her that her kindness impacted me more than she knew. She lit up like a Christmas tree squealing about how happy that made her.

I expressed my gratitude and apologized again for not reciprocating the best I could. Naturally, she immediately accepted and moved on treating it as a non-issue. And it was a non-issue. She hadn’t even noticed that I was unwell. I had not been rude or done anything wrong, but I also did not feel as though I had given her the level graciousness she deserved.

I wrapped things up by giving her my information and telling her that if she ever needed anything to give me a call. She seemed surprised, as I’m sure I would have been if anything like this ever happened to me when I was her age. I asked for her name. It’s Emmie. I introduced myself, we shook hands and then parted ways.

I’m not sure if I’ve got the proper spelling of her name, but either way, she deserves proper recognition. I don’t know anything about Emmie other than she is a petite, young woman with pink in her hair, and she makes a big difference in a subtle way. I aspire to, and we probably all should,

BE MORE LIKE EMMIE.