Compassionate Connections
Today I phoned the bank and cried.
I am pretty sure anyone reading this will be familiar with the frustration of hanging on the phone, endlessly listening to an insipid tune, intermitted with “your call is important to us, please continue to hold“.
How long do you continue to hold? How do you feel when you have been waiting 20 minutes and there is still no response? How do you feel when you give up waiting or how do you react when your call is finally answered? Does your frustration lead to anger that is unleashed on the unwitting person who finally does answer your call?
This has been me, so many times. Both in work and at home. The sheer frustration of being on hold drives me insane. It is a challenge to prevent that from coming through in my voice and remember that the person receiving my call is just another human doing their best.
Today, after a frustrating 1½ hours, of going round in circles, I broke down and sobbed. I shared with the final recipient of my call (another switchboard operator) how difficult I find it when I can’t get through to anyone. I explained that I am calling for help and constantly being passed on to another call waiting queue is not helpful. I went on to explain that I have Parkinson’s and frustration triggers my stress responses which exacerbates symptoms (meaning that both physical symptoms – tremor – and psychological symptoms – anxiety and brain fog – makes it harder for me to express myself clearly). So “please could you help me or could someone please call me back?“
The response was compassionate, which completely reduced me to a sobbing mess. Great big fat tears rolled down my face and I became incoherent. Someone had finally heard me and recognised my anguish. Someone was willing to break protocol to do their best to help me. This ‘saviour’ took my Landline number (“please don’t use the mobile, it’s my husband’s. I use it where a mobile number is compulsory because I don’t have any requirement for one of my own” – another plea for simplicity), and said he would call me back when he had an answer.
When I came off the phone my son asked me why I was crying, and I explained what a relief it was to receive help and how demoralizing it is to rely on my health condition to get it. My son understands this. He was never diagnosed with dyslexia, but he claimed the title for himself. He says it is the only way to receive the help he needs and it was his survival mechanism against ridicule from his peers at school.
When my saviour called me back, I thanked him for his help and apologised for crying. I explained the mental challenges I experience with Parkinson’s. He asked if I would like a note to be added to my customer record so that people would know I need additional help and patience. I thanked him and said yes that would support me, but what I really want is that everyone receive this help.
When I was a child, the bank manager would tip his hat to my grandfather when they passed on the street. I have never met my bank manager, all my transactions are online, phone calls are always frustrating and if I need to see someone, my nearest branch is in another town! Don’t get me wrong, I am immensely grateful for the convenience of technology, but I deeply miss real human connection and I miss the simplicity of the past.
When I came off the call, I clicked into a film link from Uplift TV. The title was Compassion. The video contained a series of faces looking directly to camera – a digital attempt at eye to eye contact. The accompanying words were:-
What’s it like to be you?
Would I have done the same, if were in your shoes?
If I were you, would I understand you?
Is what I see really who you are?
What lives inside of you?
What makes you brave?
What makes you scared?
What does life look like through your eyes?
This film was inspired by the essay “What is it like to be you” by Charles Eisenstein
After a lifetime of technical innovations that strive to connect us digitally, yet take us further and further apart physically, and now a year of social isolation that has strengthened this divide, how do we find our way back to face-to-face interactions where we can meet each other with respect and integrity.
My big life question is…
How do we find our way to a new world of honest interconnection, compassionate interdependence and active social and political integrity?
I often stumble and fall through life, getting it wrong and picking up the pieces, trying to learn from the lessons and taking another brave step forward, risking making the same mistakes over and over again.
I certainly don’t have the answer to my big question. I believe that alone, none of us do, but collectively we all do and I am grateful to the people who are leading the way in bringing us together. I am equally grateful to the people like me, who keep picking themselves up and starting over.
