Time to get off the phone Last week, while I was trying to enjoy my manicure, I watched in horror as the two women across from me talked on their phones the entire time they were getting their nails done. They employed their head nods, eyebrow raises, and finger-pointing to instruct the manicurists on things like nail length and polish choices.
I really couldn’t believe it. I’ve had my nails done by the same two women for ten years. I know their names, their children’s names, and many of their stories. They know my name, my children’s names, and many of my stories. When I finally made a comment about the women on their cell phones, they both quickly averted their eyes. Finally, in a whisper, the manicurist said, “They don’t know. Most of them don’t think of us as people.”
On my way home, I stopped at Barnes & Noble to pick up a magazine. The woman ahead of me in line bought two books, applied for a new “reader card”, and asked to get one book gift-wrapped without getting off her cell phone. She plowed through the entire exchange without making eye contact or directly speaking to the young woman working at the counter. She never acknowledged the presence of the human being across from her.
After leaving Barnes & Noble, I went to a drive-through fast food restaurant to buy a Diet Coke. Right as I pulled up to the window, my cell phone rang. I wasn’t quite sure, but I thought it might be my son’s school calling, so I answered it. It wasn’t the school – it was someone calling to confirm an appointment.
In the short time it took me to say, “Yes, I’ll be at my appointment,” the woman and I had finished our soda-for-money transaction. I apologized to her the second I got off the phone.
I must have surprised her because she got huge tears in her eyes and said, “Thank you so much. You have no idea how humiliating it is sometimes. They don’t even see us.”
I don’t know how it feels for her, but I do know how it feels to be an invisible member of the service industry. I worked my way through undergrad and some of graduate school by waiting tables and bartending. I worked in a very nice restaurant that was close to campus and a hot spot for wealthy college kids and their parents. When the customers were kind and respectful, it was OK, but one ‘waiter as object’ moment could tear me apart. Unfortunately, I now see those moments happening all the time.
I see adults who don’t even look at their waiters when they speak to them. I see parents who let their young children talk down to store clerks. I see people rage and scream at receptionists, then treat the bosses/doctors/bankers with the utmost respect.
When we treat people as objects, we dehumanize them. We do something really terrible to their souls and to our own. Martin Buber, an Austrian-born philosopher, wrote about the differences between an I-it relationship and an I-you relationship. We create an I-it relationship when we treat people like objects – people who are simply there to serve us or complete a task. I-you relationships are characterized by human connection and empathy.
I’m not suggesting that we engage in a deep, meaningful relationship with the man who works at the cleaners or the woman who works at the drive-through, but I’m suggesting that we stop dehumanizing people and start looking them in the eye when we speak to them. If we don’t have the energy or time to do that, we should stay at home. |