Play, Seen on the Streets of Laurel

When out and about in the world I love seeing, what I believe to be, teenagers playing with younger siblings or little ones in their care. The other day, I watched one holding onto the hands of a little— both laughing— while the little, very enthusiastically pulling the older, led the way towards their unfolding adventure. Some days later I saw another duo. This time the older was in pursuit of a young one, with the former moving in such a calculated way that the pursued looked convinced, and thrilled, at what, undoubtedly, felt like an all out chase.

Extraordinarily Wonderful Experiences

Sometimes people come into your life to help open you up to an extraordinarily wonderful experience.

Just for that one time.

Gold star to you for choosing to be receptive to the extraordinarily wonderful experience.

Gold star to them for proffering (consciously or not) the co-creative potential of the extraordinarily wonderful experience in the first place.

And all the stars every time you release your grip from the belief that only they can continue to help open you up to extraordinarily wonderful experiences. 

Self Love/ Taking Care of My Inner Child

I just spilled a whole bunch of water trying to get it from one container to another whilst the receiving container was balanced on an unstable surface. And I was the one who placed said container on the aforementioned precarious surface.

When the water splashed on everything, I had the clear thought that I needed to support myself mentally and emotionally.

So, with that in mind, I refused to give into the temptation to beat myself up by adding coals of shame via unloving, unsupportive, unhelpful words to underscore my next best steps to take.

Staying present, I focused on finding towels for the clean up, before slowly wiping down all the affected surfaces.

When I finished, I felt like I had taken care of the little me that would have, once upon a time, gotten into trouble for making such a mistake.  

The Words We Use

“You lost, you’re a loser,” I heard the guardian say. 

His partner and I were in one room, while he and their little ones were in the next. 

Their little ones, ages three and four, had been playing a game and the guardian had been observing. It appears the three-year-old had missed an opportunity thereby allowing her sibling to win. 

“You lost, you’re a loser.” The guardian’s partner and I exchanged a look.  Knowing the guardian, the first half of the statement was meant to be factual and the second half, possibly, teasing.  But, as someone who’s been on the receiving end of his blunt style of delivery, I knew first-hand how expensive his brand of teasing can be.  

So, when a wailing little one with a river of tears already flowing down her cheeks came to us, I comforted her, while the guardian’s partner addressed the former.   

Within a short period of time, the little one appeared calmer.  Less than twenty minutes later, she was seated in the throne of the guardian’s embrace, both laughing, both enjoying each other’s company.   

The next morning, it popped into my head how I might be able to assist this little one if she was ever in that situation again.  Approaching the guardian’s partner, I said, in the context of playing a game, if someone ever calls C__, a loser, then have her reply with, “I’m not a loser, I’m learning.”  I included examples to help C__ realize that much of life is learning how to do something she didn’t necessarily know how to do before.  Once upon a time, she didn’t know how to walk, didn’t know how to use a spoon, or hold a cup; all required practice until she learned how to do them by herself.   

I’m grateful the idea/ words came to me. And if the guardian’s partner hadn’t been around, I would have shared it with the little one myself. 

A few days after the incident, the guardian’s partner told me of an exchange that occurred.  Apparently, the guardian had invented a game for the little ones, explained the rules, and the four-year-old won.  But when the guardian told the three-year-old she had lost, her four-year-old brother immediately interjected, “She’s not a loser, she’s learning.”  Elated and taken by surprise, I turned to him and told him how awesome he was for looking out for his little sister! And now, I feel more confident that these two little ones will remember to use that sentence to empower themselves should the need ever arise. 

I was reminded of what occurred when I read the following:

 

https://www.dailyom.com/cgi-bin/display/articledisplay.cgi?aid=84593

Poem: Being There for Me

I was once the odd person out in a conversation of opinions.   

Everyone else was moved by a shared experience and said so.   

I was not as moved and shared as much.   

And though no words were uttered, I felt their energies take a collective step back.   

Even in their silence, I felt judged and found lacking.  
 

I won't abandon myself because of a difference in opinion.  

 

As long as:  

 

my heart can be opened by a piece of music— even if only a certain section out of the entire piece

 

words in the middle of a book can fill me up and in the next breath beckon me to pull up a chair and dine again even more slowly
 

Mother Nature can make me smile and strangers out in the world engaged in the big and small of life, can summon in me unexpected waves of connection and gratitude 

 

I think I’ll be just fine in our differences of opinion.   

A Boy, His Guardian, and Shopping Bags, Seen on a Bus in Flatbush

Leading with his back, the tension of exertion apparent in his 9 to 11 year old frame, the boy, pausing only to lift, then pull on the handles of one of those large shopping bags on wheels, boarded the bus.  He was followed by a female guardian balancing two very large shopping bags on each shoulder. 

Appearing to be of Hispanic descent, the facial features above their face masks and the way they would later engage with each other had me thinking they were mother and son.

Seeing an open seat right at the front of the bus, the boy gratefully sank into it.  Watching him as she guided one of her bags to the ground, I saw the mother’s eyes sparkle with amusement and felt her smiling behind her face mask.

When a passenger exited at the next stop, the mom, her shoulder still carrying the weight of the other bag, crossed in front of the boy, sat on his right and shifted the bag onto her lap.

He was tired and she acknowledged it. Eyes still a twinkle, she reached out and with great care, great affection, combed her left hand through his short, thick black hair.  When her hand came to rest on his left shoulder, he turned towards the arm, briefly leaning his head against the length of it; a gesture that spoke to me of a young boy comfortable in receiving affection and, despite how tired he was, glad to be able to assist his mother. 

In their silent exchange I felt a communication of love, value and a sense of being present with each other from both sides.

When they reached their stop, he glanced at the bag she had placed on the ground and then back up at her; a silent request for her to exit first. 

As the bus pulled away from their stop and continued south, last I saw of them, they stood on the sidewalk, side by side, facing north, his hands on the shopping bag’s handles, her shoulders once again bearing the weight of the two large bags. I hoped it was the final leg of their journey home. 

Self Observation Re: Loud Sounds

I observed something about myself the other day.

I was sitting on the subway train. An older gentleman got on and sat across from me. About a minute into his journey, I looked up at the sound of loud music. The music sounds were coming from his handheld electronic game device.

This brought up my feelings about audible personal entertainment devices in a shared space.

Actually, it brought up my general feelings about loud sounds—sounds that didn’t have to be loud or sounds that had me wishing people were more aware of how those sounds could be negatively impacting others around them-- in public or shared spaces. Examples that come to mind: loud music in a subway car, music from a car’s speakers that can be heard by all the world not in said car, the neighbor’s party with a DJ on a microphone still going strong well after midnight, someone in the neighborhood setting off fireworks well after midnight everyday for about two weeks before a national holiday—the kind of fireworks that startles me awake, the kind of fireworks I feel in my heart.

I have a sensitivity to loud sounds. I think there’s a bit of nature involved there, but also some nurture. I was raised in a household where I had to be aware of how loud I was being. I learned not to slam cupboards. I learned to walk quietly and, if someone was sleeping nearby, extra quietly.

When the older gentleman got off the train, I went back to the Duolingo lesson playing on my phone through my earphones 😉

After a few stops, the subway car door opened up and a lady with a baby stroller and a girl of about 7 or 9 got on. In the stroller sat a little boy with a pacifier in his mouth.

I went back to my lesson.

Minutes later, I looked up to the sound of the Baby Shark song coming from the lady’s cellphone, sitting perched on the stroller’s ledge in front of the little boy. Transfixed, he watched the images that accompanied the video. I found myself smiling at his concentration.

When a seat opened up across from me, the little girl ran to it while the lady stopped the video and took back the cellphone. The little boy, quite unhappy with this, vocalized a wail of disappointment.

Realizing there was only space enough for one, the lady (I think it’s safe to call her, “Mom” from now on) had the little girl get back up. Then she maneuvered the stroller in such a way that the girl could sit on her lap with the stroller parked sideways in front of them. This allowed the mom to perch the phone back on the stroller’s ledge where all three of them could see the screen. The next song, an educational piece that included the words, “Thank you” and “sorry”, woke up the sleeping customer next to them.

This is when I made that observation about myself—the one I mentioned at the start of this piece 😉

I realized that I found it acceptable that this very little one could watch something loudly playing on a handheld device, but I wished that the older gentleman from before had on earphones.

Thinking on it further I realize it’s also the story I’m telling myself about what I’m experiencing, not just how the experience feels to my system. All loud sounds aren’t created equally. Some loud sounds can’t be helped. Sounds from a construction job for example. The sounds of the jackhammer or the power saws are far from soothing to my system. But it can’t be helped as they’re necessary to the job being done. As long as the job being done is during the day time.

One summer job at a medieval faire housed me on site with five other people. Apart from one couple, the rest of us were strangers. The first two nights, one of my cabin mates insisted on using power tools well into the night. On the third day, a senior member of the cast moved onto the site. That night, when he heard that power tool, he went outside and told its owner it was much too late in the night for all that noise. It never happened again.

So, you see, it’s the loud sounds that can be helped but aren’t, that often have me feeling some kind of way, and often leave me wondering, “Why??” 

Synching with my Inner Rhythms

 

August of 2020, I began using the Duolingo app to learn French.  It was mentioned to me in passing and there was a free learning option, so I decided, “Why not?” 

I’d taken two semesters of French for the language requirement in high school, and, practically starting from scratch, another semester of it during undergrad.  This time around, after so many, many years of never using it, not having / not creating opportunities to practice outside of the class I was enrolled in, I was, once again, starting from scratch 🙃

Throughout the rest of 2020, every now and then I’d go on the app, do a lesson, pat myself on the back, and get on with the rest of my day.  I’d receive email notifications about how I was doing, or reminders to login and do a lesson.  But it was a relatively stress free experience.

At some point in 2021, I began to go on more frequently and by the end of the year, I was doing at least one lesson a day.

I think it was around the start of 2022 when I noticed/ decided to explore some of the other  “tabs” at the bottom of the app.  One such tab led me to the Leaderboard.  The Duolingo Leaderboard is where you find yourself competing with others in your league.  I write “where you find yourself” because, I wasn’t conscious of being in a league or being in competition with others. 

Ok, I faintly remember some email notifications congratulating me for being in something like the Obsidian League.  But those were just words; I hadn’t taken the time to truly understand them.  As far as I was concerned, I was just putting in practice time and learning. 

Well, on that fateful leaderboard discovery day, I learned that I was in the Diamond League. Apparently, I had gone from Bronze, Silver, Gold, Sapphire, Ruby, Emerald, Amethyst, Pearl, Obsidian, and into the highest league possible.

From that moment on, I increased the number of lessons I did per day.  And as I accrued points, I watched myself move up or down the board to see where I ended up at the end of the week.

Folks who were in places 1-3 got to move on to the next league. Since Diamond was the highest, folks in that league would stay there.  Those in places 4-24, were fine and would continue on in their current league.  Places 25 and up were labeled as being in the Demotion Zone. 

In a very short amount of time, I got tired.  I knew more French.   But I got tired of my personal goal of trying to stay in the top 13. 

I was so tired of competing, I began to wonder what would happen if I was in the Demotion Zone. Answer: I’d be sent back a league.

I got annoyed. I just wanted to focus on learning at my own pace without being “demoted” because I didn’t meet someone else’s standards.

Duolingo Internet Query:  Can I continue learning at my own pace without being in a league of any kind? 

Answer:  Yes!

So, I changed my settings to private and voilà, the leaderboard (aka unnecessary stress), disappeared.

Admittedly, the first day of going at my own pace without seeing how many folks were ahead of or behind me felt odd. Periodically checking in throughout that day’s lessons:

Me:  How do you feel?

Body: I’m breathing.

Me: Elaborate please.

Body:  Breathing is more aligned with inner rhythms.  No compulsion to stay on and do extra lessons in order to keep up with whomever.

Me: That sounds great.

Self: It feels…great!

Me: You’re right! It does feel great!

*Fist Bump* 😉

It’s been a few weeks now, and it still feels great to move at the pace aligned with my own inner rhythms 🙂 I’m glad I made that decision.

A Guardian and Three, Seen on a Sidewalk in Flatbush

Standing at the bus stop this afternoon, across the street, as they made their way along the sidewalk, my gaze landed on what felt like a family unit comprised of a mom, her two sons and her daughter. 

They looked to be of South Asian descent. 

The woman and the boys were a few paces ahead of the young girl. 

One of the boys who was rather tall--taller than the mom—looked to be in high school—maybe a Junior or a Senior.  Slightly in front of him, giving off younger brother vibes, the other boy, doppelganger to the first in everything except said height, looked to be a 7th or 8th grader.  Height wise, he came up to the mother’s shoulders. 

Seconds after noticing the trio, I watched the girl jog to clasp her right hand with her mother’s outstretched left.  Maybe a 5th or 6th grader, she continued to hold her mother’s hand while anchoring a white canvas bag decorated with small hearts hanging off her left shoulder. 

Something in the initial togetherness of the woman and the two boys, followed by the same inexplicable something when the girl ran to clasp her hand to the woman’s, widened my heart.  I hadn’t even realized, until the girl ran up to clasp it, that the woman had stretched out her hand; she hadn't given a look back to accompany the gesture.  

Thinking about mothers traveling out in the world in the company of the growing children in their care, I snapped a mental picture of love.

Kindness and Presence on a Sidewalk in Flatbush

It was a comfortable mid-day in June; the surprise embrace of a cool breeze, *chef’s kiss*.

 

Grocery bags in hand, I navigated the sidewalk crowds waiting for the bus or heading to their destinations. 

 

I was en route to the bus stop when a Black gentleman, sporting a salt and pepper beard and an afro-shaped head of hair under a Rasta style hat, jog-walked across my path before veering to the right.  His neon green shirt had me thinking he might be a manual laborer— possibly in construction.  He slowed to a stop next to a party of three; two Black women and an older Black man with snow-white hair.

 

The women were in the process of ever so carefully guiding the man from a wheelchair into the back seat of a black hired car.  Wheelchair as close to the open car door as possible, they had already gotten him up and now held him between the door and the back seat.  Physically, it was clear he needed their help.  In turn, their guiding embrace communicated he was most precious and loved.

 

The bearded gentleman talked with them.  I was too far away to hear the words, but his body language and facial expression also spoke of care and concern.  Once the older man was safely in the backseat, the would-be Samaritan continued speaking with one of the women; her short, bobbed hair of cloudy grey ruffled on and off by a playful breeze. 

 

The other woman, long black hair pulled back into a ponytail, had begun the work of folding the wheelchair.  Task complete, she was met by the driver at the trunk of the car, where they appeared to discuss the logistics of getting the wheelchair in.

 

On their first try, it didn’t fit; just enough of the wheels stuck out to make closing the trunk problematic.  So, out it came, and the woman began folding it again.  It was clear her next attempt would be getting the wheels in first.  By this time, the other woman and the caring stranger had come over to the trunk. 

 

Once again, the caring stranger hovered respectfully nearby, ready to assist if the ladies required his help.  But as soon as he saw they had it all under control, he stepped back even more.  When he started to leave, the woman with the wheelchair thanked him for his offer of help.

 

My bus arrived at that moment, so I have no idea how round 2 of getting the wheelchair into the trunk played out.  But I boarded with a heart full of appreciation for all I had witnessed.

 

I’m grateful to the caring stranger for coming over to proffer assistance.  It was also kind of him to stay in the event the women ended up needing assistance.  I also appreciated that he didn’t just go in and start physically getting involved; he offered and then let them decide.  He kept up a quiet conversation with them, and his mannerisms and demeanor had me wondering if he, too, had firsthand experience with someone navigating life with limited mobility. 

 

I also appreciated the care the women took with their older gentleman-- the energy of which felt so palpable. 

 

Then, at the end, the way the woman offered her thanks to the caring stranger— the warmth of it.  They hadn’t needed or ended up using his physical help.  But he had come over, respectfully offered, and stayed with them physically and energetically.  Her hands, and likely her mind, were still primarily occupied with the needs of the situation.  And yet, she was present enough to extend a personable thank you as he left. 

Customer Service Email Correspondance

The Email I Sent

 

From: I________
Sent: Thursday, June 9, 2022 10:03 AM
To: Z____
Subject: Thank you and Sharing Feedback

  

Dear Dr. _____, 

 

I am writing for two reasons.  One is to thank you for your Physical Therapy assistance during my visits to your practice.  I appreciated your warmth and engaging energy, as well as your program for my physical rehabilitation/ pain management.  

 

I’m also writing to provide feedback regarding the only other interactions I have had at the practice.

 

In my experience, the front desk staff are the first people to interact with clients or potential clients; the way they choose to engage can really assist in setting a business’ desired tone.   Every time I’ve visited, no member of the attending front desk staff has ever initiated a hello or a goodbye.  Apart from that, all other in-person interactions with them have been ok.  The exception was on 6/7/22.  

 

I arrived and signed in.  There were two ladies behind the desk.  Not one looked up at me or verbally acknowledged someone had come into the practice. 

 

After signing in, I said I had a question.   One of the ladies looked up and engaged with me.  She wears glasses and has a soft-spoken quality to her voice.  The other lady was focused on her computer screen— had been since I walked in.  I addressed my question to the soft-spoken lady.  It was my final insurance approved visit; I wanted to know the protocol moving forward. Would the practice be reaching out to the insurance company to request more dates? 

 

She looked over to her co-worker at the same time the latter stated, without looking up from her screen, that I needed to come in for another appointment before she could put a request through to insurance. 

 

Crossing over to stand in front of her station, I repeated the information to make sure I heard her correctly.  Eyes still on her screen, hands still typing, she confirmed everything I said.  Surprised, I asked why I needed to come back in-order for the request to be put through.  Still typing, still not looking up, she stated that if I didn’t come in, they couldn’t put the request through. 

 

At this point, I communicated to her that I was surprised because the last PT Practice I had been, reached out to insurance after my last approved visit; I didn’t come in again until insurance acknowledged approving more visits.   I explained that I didn’t know different practices would go about that process differently.

 

Still not looking up from her screen, she made a face I interpreted as, “I don’t know anything about that.  I’ve never encountered that before.”  Then she said she could only move forward with reaching out to insurance after I came in again. 

 

Sitting in the waiting area after the interaction, I was upset.  Perhaps if I had experienced some empathy or felt she endeavored to understand where I was coming from, it wouldn’t have affected me as much.  But there was none of that in her tone and the act of no eye-contact/ not pausing in her typing to interact with the person in front of her, added to the feeling of disconnect.  

 

Things happen, everyone is dealing with things others have no inkling of, and people are sometimes not conscious of how their words/ actions/ energy is affecting others.  Perhaps my perception of the exchange was not her conscious intent.  But the fact of the matter is, by the end of it, I was upset.  

 

Please know I genuinely don’t bring this up to “get her into trouble.”  If you do bring it up to her or any of the other front desk staff, what I hope they’ll take from it is an awareness of how their actions and energy can, potentially, contribute a healing difference.  It’s true that conscious collaboration is a joint effort— each party being responsible for the energy they bring to the interaction.  But as the first members of your team to interact with the public, it’s even more critical that the front desk staff be conscious of the tone they’re setting from the beginning and throughout the interaction to follow.

 

I did have a few wonderful interactions over the phone when I set up the first appointment in early April to come to your practice.  The lady who made that appointment for me and confirmed one or two other appointments later, was stellar.    I wish I knew her name.  She took her time with me and even on the phone, her energy communicated presence and respect and a desire to make certain she had all the necessary info.  I don’t know if she’s still a part of your team as she hasn’t been the one to call to confirm future appointments with me.  But over the phone, she stood out in a really wonderful way.

 

Regarding the practice policy for submitting to insurance when initially approved visits have been completed, I reached out to insurance.  I was advised not to book an appointment before they’ve confirmed covering another round of visits as there’s a chance they may not cover it and I would have to pay out of pocket.  

 

Thank you again for your time spent on my program and for your time spent reading this email.

 

All the genuine best to you and the practice.

 

Sincerely,

I_______

  

When I sent the above email, I wasn’t sure how it would be received.  I had hopes, but it was unsolicited feedback; the Dr. could respond differently or send no reply.

 

I have additional reasons for sending the email. 1)  I couldn’t let go of the experience and took that as a sign to give voice to it.  2) The front desk staff looked young, and once upon a time, I too was younger 😉.  In those days, I would have told anyone listening, without factoring in the possibility and the necessity for more to come, that I was “grown." 😉   I’ve since learned, if one is open to it, that life experiences, sometimes helped along by communication and observation, can potentially continue to strengthen one’s growth game.

 

When I was younger, I was fired from a job.  The evening of that first day away on vacation, I opened up my email to the termination notice. 

 

First, I was surprised.  I really thought that I had been doing all aspects of my job.  Next, I remember thinking I wished the manager, also a friend, had clearly communicated the things mentioned in the email and given me a chance to take the notes.  I wrote that in my reply.  Years later, I would become a supervisor and learn what I couldn’t factor in before.

 

Before being a supervisor, I did my job to the best of my understanding.  I honestly didn't consider how anyone else was doing their job unless it directly affected mine.  This was the disconnect with my former manager.  He had expectations that I didn’t meet because, at the time, I didn’t understand them to be part of my job. 

 

But when I became a supervisor, I started seeing and thinking about how those under my supervision played their part.  This widening of my perspective, added to my growth game.

 

I also want to mention that the manager who fired me was also responsible for later connecting me to a position in the company where I eventually became the aforementioned supervisor. 

 

His Reply to the Email I Sent

 

From: Z____  
Sent: Friday, June 10, 2022 10:51 AM
To: I_______
Subject: Re: Thank you and Sharing Feedback

 

Hey I_______,

 

Thank you for bringing this to my attention, I sincerely apologize on their behalf. It is not the first time hearing of the front desk's mannerism, or lack thereof unfortunately. I have relayed your feedback to the manager to see if there are any solutions. I agree that it's completely unacceptable for the front desk, as the first point of contact, to treat patients with such negligence. Do you have any suggestions? The girl you spoke to without glasses, she is actually genuinely rude and I'm not sure how to change that.

As for the insurance, it is to my understanding that the patient comes in first for the visit so that we can submit the documentation for that visit for authorization. I was informed that the first visit of a new authorization gets approved by default, but the front desk handles that directly so they should be able to answer your questions more accurately.

 

Best,

Z__________

 

I’m going to reply to him.   I’m going to take my time with it and have a reply in a few days. Perhaps he'll forward it to the hiring manager.  But it's not just about proffering potential solutions.   I want to ask questions to help prompt problem solving on their end.  What are their expectations of the front desk staff?  Are these expectations communicated during the hiring and training process?  Does the staff feel valued?  Treated as assets to the company?  Important questions that the practice needs to answer for themselves.

My Reply

 

From: I___

Sent: Tuesday, June 14, 2022 8:48 AM

To: Z___

Subject: Re: Thank you and Sharing Feedback

 

Hi Z____,  

In your last email, you wrote, “Do you have any suggestions?”  

Not knowing how that position is advertised, hired, and then trained, what follows are suggestions that could help — if not with the current hires, then with future ones. If the following is already being implemented, then revisiting it with all parties concerned would be beneficial.   

How is the position advertised; customer service or administrative, or both? If posted in job listings as Receptionist or Front Desk staff, does the hiring manager consider the position customer service or administrative or both? If one role is emphasized over the other, that might be part of the issue.  

Does your current front desk staff consider it to be one over the other or both? If both, what percentage would they allocate to each? Invite them into the conversation. They are the ones doing the job, and their insights can help shape how to move forward.  

Also, ask what duties they consider part of their job? What do they believe they’re responsible for? Any disconnect between their answers and actual expectations needs to be addressed in a healthy, kind, and professional way to get everyone on the same page.  

After getting clear on what is expected of the front desk, spell it out to future potential candidates. Again, having everyone on the same page regarding expectations is imperative.  

Next, with those expectations in mind, ask questions during the interview to get a sense of energy and openness to meeting those expectations.  

Potential interview questions to add: 1) When you’ve been on the receiving end of good or great customer service, what made it stand out? 2) When you’ve been on the receiving end of a not-so-great customer service experience, what made it stand out? 

Next, training. Are they trained by peers? If so, any peer training should be by someone observed as caring about the work that they do and their effect on others.   

Is there a Training manual? Or a few pages of a mini-welcome packet? Something like, “Dear Front Desk Staff, Welcome to S______ PT." Communication that invites them to the practice and, in a kind and professional tone, stresses their importance (i.e., the first point of contact) and includes expectations for all aspects of the job?  

If not, create one and include humor in the document. For example, "we know this is a job; you might, initially, be here just for the paycheck 🙃 But you’ll be spending x amount of your valuable time here. We encourage you to learn not just the administrative side of the position but to also strengthen your customer service skills. Engage by welcoming clients when they arrive. Ask if they have an appointment time. If so, direct them to sign in, then direct them to the waiting area. Point out the restroom. If they don't have an appointment time, follow protocol for what information is needed. Later, as the client leaves the practice, say something personable: “Bye for now” or “Take care.”   

At this time, maybe have a one-on-one conversation with the current front desk staff, followed by a meeting with everyone. If the latter is not possible, follow the one-on-one with an official email so everyone is on the same page moving forward. A one-on-one allows opportunity for human connection/ making personable contact (akin to how you want them to connect with clients or visitors) before being followed by a summary email.  

Consider the following before a conversation with the front desk staff. Does the staff feel valued? Are they treated as assets to the company? If the answer is no, figure out how to communicate this via words and actions, so it isn't just lip service. Many people can feel when something isn't genuine.  

Get clients involved. Maybe after a client has their last session, email a survey asking for feedback-- 3 or 4 questions about what you want to know about the engagement from the front desk staff. For example, "Did the front desk staff say Hello and Goodbye?" "The level of customer service engagement was (choose one), so-so, ok, good, great, excellent," etc.  

If you implement the above, let the front desk staff know. The knowledge that their work is being evaluated by clients might make a difference.  And the survey helps the practice obtain more insights.  

The young lady.  Has anyone taken her aside to communicate how her actions are coming across?  I stress her “actions” as opposed to “her” because they’re not the same thing.  She might not know how what she does/ the way she chooses (consciously or unconsciously) to do what she does, is perceived.     

Also, after reading your experience, it occurred to me that perhaps how she interacts might be born out of neurodiversity instead of deliberate disinterest.  I don’t know.  But in my one experience with her, my main feeling throughout the entire exchange was a disconnect (no eye contact, not much of a variation in what she was communicating to me, no sense that she understood where I was coming from feeling-wise).  The possibility of neurodivergence being at play does soften my perception of that particular interaction.  Again, not saying she is or isn’t.  But it’s something to reflect upon before engaging her in conversation.      

Ultimately, unless someone points out how her actions come across-- points them out in a manner that extends grace and gives her the benefit of the doubt, she might not know.   

Z______, at the end of the day, you, the hiring manager, or the necessary party, can ask people to care, but you can't make them care. You can explain why caring is imperative to the position, the practice, and to their growth as human beings living among other human beings. Still, you can't make them care. So, have the necessary conversations, implement the changes that can be controlled (advertising, hiring, training, communication, client feedback), and observe how things unfold. Also, offer genuine praise and gratitude for any good work they do or any positive changes implemented.   

Good luck,

I_______ 

As I write this, I haven’t heard back from him. As it’s been about a week since I sent the above, I don’t think I will. While it's disappointing not to receive even a confirmation of receipt, I don’t believe I have any regrets. He asked for suggestions; I proffered some. It’s likely much, MUCH more than he expected, but those were the thoughts that came to mind. I hope that it ends up being helpful. I wish them well.

A Thought Based on Experience

Sometimes you want to move forward.  You want to take action.  But you're not clear on the action to take or how to move forward.  In those times, you have to make peace with where you are and trust that you'll take the action you can take when the opportunity presents itself.  In the interim, nourish yourself with helpful thoughts and, whenever possible, healthy food. 

See? Snail.

Extending a cupped hand towards the passing customer, the little girl, in what sounded like an Eastern European accent and with the high-pitched musicality often associated with little ones, said, “See? Snail.” 

 

We were at the New Happy Laundromat in Flatbush, Brooklyn. The laundromat customer, who was on a return trip to get something out of her car, screeched to a speed bump of a pause.  Glancing at the dime-sized snail shell, she made a polite but distracted sound of acknowledgment then continued towards the exit.

 

By the door, she passed the little girl’s mother in the process of rolling a cart with two laundry bags up to the Laundromat workstation.

 

En route to the workstation the laundromat attendant was the next one treated to show and tell.   “See?” Repeated the little one. “Snail.”

 

The attendant shuddered with an accompanying vocalization of sound, before crossing by in front of her.

 

Surprised by this reaction, the little girl paused to give the snail shell in her hand a considering look before making her way over to the workstation.  There, in a tone both patient and insistent, she explained, “Snails aren’t scary.  They’re sticky.” 

 

But the attendant was preoccupied with helping her mother.  After a few more seconds of waiting, the little girl, her attention back on the snail shell, turned, and wandered deeper into the Laundromat.

 

Golden brown hair pulled into a high, side ponytail, I would place her age around 4 or 5.  She wore a yellow sweatshirt over a pair of blue jeans.  The sweatshirt doubled as a canvas for white polka dots, and what appeared to be a dark-colored cloud stitched across the front. On her back sat a book bag depicting an enchanted Anna and Elsa standing amidst a flurry of snowflakes.

 

While the mother’s singular focus appeared to be getting the laundry started, they spoke on and off in what may have been Polish.  Then the snail came out of its shell, and the little girl switched to English.

 

“Aww,” came her cry of delight, “it’s touching me!” True enough, there in her palm, the shell’s inhabitant was now visible and seemingly curious about the hand structure surrounding it.

 

Remembering the attendant’s earlier reaction and noticing she was now customer free; the little girl went back to her. 

 

“Snails aren’t scary; they’re sticky.”  Although her tone was still patient, it was evident, she really wanted to convince the attendant of how harmless the snail was. 

 

She continued.  “It’s a baby snail.  See, it’s a baby one.  It doesn’t have any teeth.  I love baby snails.  And ladybugs. And butterflies. Aww, he’s touching me!”

 

When the customer who had made subsequent trips to her car was saying goodbye, the girl asked her to say goodbye to the snail, too.  To my delight, she did.

 

By the time she approached me, I knew the routine:

 

Little Girl:  See? Snail.

Me: Yes, I see. 

 

Shortly thereafter, I learned it ate leaves and that her mother had found it in the bushes.

 

Me: What are you going to do with it?

Little Girl: Show it to friends at school.

Me: And then what will you do?

Little Girl: Eat breakfast.

Me: Oh. Okay (clearly not the answer I was expecting).  And then what?

Little Girl: Play, then lunch.

 

At one point, she turned her back to me, asking if I’d place some items into the front square section of the book bag.  “I can’t reach that area,” she explained.   Honestly charmed by her from the first, I agreed, unzipping the section, and putting in the items. 

 

In my peripheral vision, I saw her mom cast a fleeting glance over at us.  But, without saying a word to myself or to her daughter about the conversation, she turned her focus back to loading the washing machines.

 

When mom finally had all their clothes in, they exited with the little girl saying she was off to feed the snail some leaves for its breakfast.  I had a feeling the little girl was also headed to school.

 

Whether the other adults in the Laundromat were conscious of it, that little girl was a teacher.  Outgoing and quietly grounded, she showed respect and kindness for an easily overlooked, tiny life form.  Then there was her willingness to educate from a place of love and wisdom; indeed, the snail is not actually scary. Finally, simply from being in, as well as interacting with, the presence of such innocence, I was also gifted a lightening of my spirit.