On Empathy
For the past few years, I have been spending some time around Valentine’s Day working at my friends’ amazing flower shop in Alexandria, VA. It is lovely to be around so many long-stemmed red roses in the middle of winter and to have a glimpse into the happiness that love can bring to people. It is also a retail environment, filled with stress and pressure to deliver beauty and joy on a very particular time schedule. Two true stories:
On gentleman called worried that the flowers he sent to his girlfriend would be delivered while she was out. Valentine’s Day this year was a Saturday. His girlfriend was running errands. I explained to him carefully that it was both too cold to leave fresh cut flowers and that we could not make any guarantees about delivery times on this day. He was indignant. I understood. He paid a lot of money for the flowers, but we were working as hard as possible to ensure all of our deliveries were done and could not make any guarantees, particularly at this point in the day–mid-morning on Valentine’s Day. He became increasingly angry with me. Finally, he said, well, why can’t you just make her the lat delivery of the day and bring them around 7 pm when I know she will be home getting ready for our dinner?
Another gentleman came into the store to pick up his arrangement. It was gorgeous. I asked him, is this what you were expecting? Oh, he said, this is more than I was expecting. He was pleased with his flowers and while we wrapped and boxed them for him to put in his car, he said, I know this is a really busy day for you all. I really appreciate the care you put into my flowers. What are you doing this evening for Valentine’s Day?
I always try to remember that everywhere I look I can see evidence of other people’s labor–and in seeing the evidence of that labor, I have an opportunity to appreciate it. The first customer was completely oblivious to the labor of others. It seemed to him reasonable that someone deliver his flowers at 7 p.m. on a Saturday night. As if the delivery person had nowhere else to be, no other commitments other than his satisfaction. The second customer recognized the labor around him–and that the people doing the labor were people like himself with lives, interests, and experiences separate from his flower order.
What separates these two men? Empathy. One can see other people and respond to them humanely. That seems petty straightforward to me. More vexing is the question, What happens in the world that these two people have such different perceptual capacities? How does one person end up with empathy to tread carefully in the world giving respect and appreciation to others while the other assumes he is owed service from other human beings, regardless of the reality of the situation?
Working at the flower shop, I see lots of people expect and demand service. Again, I understand that: the flower shop is selling a product and a service and people deserve to expect a particular level for both the product and the service. Yet some people’s expectations are far outside the realm of what seems reasonable. I see people with a sense of entitlement, one that far exceeds anything I can view as healthy ego engagement. How does this happen? How can we prevent it?
Empathy seems to me such an important human capacity. I wish we could develop it more for people. Interactions where we can see each other’s labor and humanity are so much more rewarding than interactions that demand unreasonable services and express disappointments in perceived failings. I appreciate my time at the flower shop as a reminder of my own need to exercise my empathy muscle. In that way, both customers gave me a Valentine’s Day present. For that, I am grateful.
Filed under: Uncategorized
