Meet people where they are Bouncy Betty

I’m sitting in the waiting room of a chiropractor’s office in Vermont. My mom just went in to fill out her paperwork.

She fell a few days ago and hurt her back while visiting George in the nursing home. She hasn’t seen this chiropractor in a few years.

The Office manager I’ll call Bouncy Betty meets us with the overdone enthusiasm of a brand new Dallas Cowboy cheerleader. Energy mach 11.

“Oh my goodness! It’s SO great to see you Liz! How are you Liz? We haven’t seen you in ages” Betty gushes.

I interject. “Hi, excuse me, you couldn’t know this but actually my mom just lost her partner and she’s freshly grieving”, hoping that would turn her down a notch. No such luck.

If the Texas Roadhouse were a doctors office it would be this one. She brushed right passed it with an unbearable version of “Well you’d never know! You look great today Liz!

Cleary her customer service had forgotten to teach her all the wonderful ways to help their patients feel seen, heard and met in their humanity where they are. She opted instead for the pretend you didn’t hear a word and talk over her louder and faster coping mechanism.

She introduced a new woman in training.

I reminded my mom to tell the doc that she slipped on a stair just this morning and was having some wobbling when she walked.

Bouncy Betty chimes in, an invisible voice behind a half wall desk, “Oh I remember those darn gait issues of yours Liz! Still giving you trouble?”

My mom challenges this to which she’s quickly shut down with a condescending “Oh I never forget a thing Liz!”.

It is still so hard for people to show up without any antics, without pretending to be SO HAPPY TO SEE US? The fake accolades, the pleasantries dripping in “truthfully, I couldn’t give a shit”.

Never in my life have I enjoyed this gross faux human interaction. Too much time in Coffee Hours with the kind of Christians who spent the first hour after church standing around, drinking coffee, gossiping and judging fellow churchgoers ruthlessly.

I’m hip to the type and today I’m in no mood for candy coated living.

Be yourself. Take off your disguise, remove the cloak of your truth and show up better for others.

BTW my mom’s name is Libby. Never Liz.