When I was in my early 20s I took a job at a church. Not a church like you're thinking though - their teachings were rooted in metaphysics, the occult, and spiritualism. New Age stuff. I wasn't a member there; I was just young and open-minded and needed gainful employment. In fact, I was and still am very much a staunch atheist. One of my duties there was helping to answer the phone. This meant taking calls from psychics and witches who were seeking help and comfort with their struggles in both daily life and spirituality. My job was to listen. Give a safe space to someone to speak openly about what troubled them, even when their troubles included aliens, past lives, and astral projection. And I was good at it. My atheism never stopped me from feeling empathy. And I knew how to speak to them in their language, on their terms, so that no one ever noticed I didn't share in their beliefs.
My experience working there taught me so much about people. How giving someone an ear, a safe ear, can move them like magic. It's a skill that I've carried with me to every job' I've had since. Today I had a client call who was distraught over a letter he received from the IRS. He calmly gave me some backstory, then went on to his current situation. As he was explaining I realized he didn't really have a question - he was looking for reassurance that he had his facts straight. Then he mentioned his wife. Every word was carefully crafted to not expose what he was actually thinking and feeling. After all, he's telling me, a woman, who may very well also be a wife. As I felt his nerves bunching up, I threw him a rope: Dude. I'm married. I totally get it.
This man was preparing to have a necessary, important talk with his wife that was going to inevitably also be an "I told you so!" situation. He explained, "I have to tell her all this and she's going to explode! But she's the one that didn't think it was important and now we're in a legal and financial mess and..."
"When she blows up, give her my number. That's when you let her hear it from me. Then we'll talk about how to fix it. Because man, this is fixable."
As we're going back and forth discussing details, his anxiety and emotions are all over the place. He notices another letter from the IRS that hasn't been opened yet. Thinking it's a duplicate of the first letter, he rips it open hoping he'll have a clean copy he hasn't scribbled notes on to show me, but instead he starts screaming, "OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!"
A long pause...
I stayed quiet and could hear his breathing change. He was crying. It was one of those emotionally exhausted cries. This man had been bracing himself for a new legal battle with the Federal government, a major financial setback of tens of thousands of dollars, a disruption to marital bliss (we'll just pretend that's a thing for the single kids,) and the fucking holidays.
"I got it wrong," he said. I told him to take a deep breath. Take a moment. It's ok. He, through tears tells me he misinterpreted the first letter. Turns out the whole thing ties into an issue that his attorney was already working on. The realization and relief that overcame him made him break down. This is a grown ass man. A successful business man. This is not a man who goes around crying let alone in front of people. He was embarrassed. I had been in this very position so many times before at that old job. I didn't rush him off the phone or make him feel like he was wasting my time. I gave him a safe space. I advised him to make sure his attorney gets those letters. And depending on the course of action he recommends, we're here if he needs us.
Comforting and consoling people is not in my job description as an office manager. I'm not saying it should be in yours. What happened today wasn't about doing my job - I mean it was, but in that moment it was about just having some fucking compassion. I thought about all the times I was hanging by a damn thread. Hell, pretty sure I was in that headspace like two days ago. My head was going to implode. It took a friend telling me to take a deep breath to find my center. I'm not necessarily saying we need to kumbaya the shit out of every interaction. (Maybe just hum it a little.) Recognize the freak out in them is like the freak outs you've had in you and acknowledge it. I'm getting a reputation around here for being good at what I do, being a fuckin' bulldog when necessary, but most importantly, just being authentic and taking a genuine interest in the people we deal with. That's the good stuff.
Namaste, bitches.
