I had a difficult Thursday. J was at the Turnabout Thrift Store. I was home. I had received an email from our library informing me that a book I had placed on hold, Gunter Grass’ The Tin Drum was there for pickup. The library is a little less than a mile from my house, so I thought I’d wear my earbuds.
When I walk alone I often wear earbuds. I love listening to music, podcasts, etc., but I’ve had numerous problems with some very expensive Bose earbuds that I had bought from Best Buy. I had returned them once before and a helpful manager had made some changes in my phone to accommodate the issues. They worked for a day. I decided to return them, drove to the Best Buy store nearby and asked for the manager. He looked up my account and discovered that the earbuds were not only out of warranty but well beyond the store’s return policy.
At that time an unfamiliar David Buchholz climbed into my body, said,”You’re not doing this right. Let me take over. I can handle this.” That new David Buchholz wouldn’t accept the store’s policy. I stood by mute and amazed as the new David Buchholz insisted that the store either refund the money for a defective product or allow him to leave with a new pair from a different manufacturer.
So here’s what happened next. That new David Buchholz screamed, “Damn, then keep your earbuds!” and threw them on the counter. One flying earbud grazed Eric, the manager. He called the police. By then this new unfamiliar David Buchholz said, “I’m outta here!” and left, leaving behind the bewildered, embarrassed, and thoroughly humiliated David that I’ve been hanging out with for the greater part of 78 years to fend for himself, the one who subscribes to Google’s former motto, “Don’t be evil.” When the police arrived the sales clerk said, “He’s apologized. Everything is fine.” The policewoman said, “Sir, have a nice day.” I left.
I got in my car and cursed that person who came into the store, pretending he was me, the one who lost his temper, whose frustrations and feelings of having a “bad day” would infect others to have a bad day, too. The original David Buchholz felt awful. He told Jadyne about it, (but not about the police coming), and couldn’t eat dinner, couldn’t sleep, felt bewildered, embarrassed, ashamed, and angry at himself.
The next morning at 10:00 the old DB was at the window of our local See’s Candy store, picked up a pound of nuts and chews, and drove back to Best Buy, asking once again for the manager. When she came he presented her with his heartfelt apologies and a box of chocolates. “Everyone has a bad day,” she said forgivingly. He responded, “But my bad day doesn’t give me permission to give you one, too.” Reina is the general manager. She has a boss. I went home and wrote the following to her boss:
“I tried to return malfunctioning Bose earbuds that were not only beyond your store’s policy for returns, but possibly by the manufacturer’s warranty as well. I behaved poorly, became irate, and treated Reina and Eric with disrespect. When I threw down the earbuds on the counter the police were called. By that time I had recognized my poor behavior and had apologized. I returned today bringing more heartfelt apologies and a box of See’s candy. I am embarrassed by what I did yesterday. However, I’m not writing to talk about my behavior. I want to compliment both Eric (I believe that was his name) and Reina for their professionalism in the face of an irascible customer. If I were their manager I would be proud of the way they handled someone like me, with calmness and professional demeanor. They well deserve these kudos from someone who clearly doesn’t.”
I felt better, of course. But this has stuck with me. I’ve vowed never to be such an asshole again, but I wonder if it’s really just a matter of choice. I tried to look back on why I behaved the way I did, reluctantly accepting that the unfamiliar David Buchholz was actually a regrettable part of the David Buchholz that I sort of like most of the time. That frightens me. I’m not fond of that version. A friend once used the expression, “the whole human package”, and that means the good, the bad,…and the ugly.
Explanations aren’t the same as excuses, but my day wasn’t going well from the get go. I’ve been so troubled by Trump. I wish him a speedy demise. I’m certainly not enamored of JD, either. He troubles me, too. The killing of the six hostages was harder to bear than some of the other mindless violence, perhaps because they were moments away from being rescued, all but one in their twenties. Even with the good I do at the Dorothy Day Shelter I think I’ve been longing for something meaningful to add into my life. I’m making plans to do that. I’ve been bored. I think I left for Best Buy with a negative attitude, prepared for them to turn me down, too, and when I arrived I was already defensive.
I was reminded of this story. A man runs out of gas on a country road. He sees a light on farmhouse a mile away. As he walks with an empty can towards the farmhouse he thinks to himself, “I wonder if they have any gas.” A few steps later, “I’ll bet they won’t appreciate me coming to ask for gas,” More steps. “I bet they won’t want to give me any.” They answer the door. “Keep your damn gas!” he screams.
I didn’t offer any excuses or explanations when I went back or wrote in my note. Inexcusable is a fair word. I’m trying to accept my “whole human package,” the good, the bad, and yes, the ugly.
Just trying to get well.
