Return to Sender

Return to Sender!          (for Prompts Round #167, no. 1, something in the second-hand pocket)

Dorina was in tears when I went to her office, for HER to solve a problem for ME!

I know the best thing is just to listen, so I did!

She told me:

“You know that my job is to switch people’s records over to local coverage here, when they come to town. That’s easy, and there are hardly ever ANY complications or confusion. I just show them how it works here, what they’ve got, and ask what else they need!

“Well, this little bully just swept out of here, and I feel insulted, indignant, hurt – this really triggered something deep in me! I don’t know why such a little thing would get me down…”

So, I asked her what he said. And she told me the phrase that he burned into her soul.

“I said, oh, so sweetly, ‘Good morning, Mr. Weegydo, welcome, let me show you what we have!” and he answered:

“I would request that you have the consideration to address me as ‘Doctor Weegydo’! I will return tomorrow!”

“This meant that I didn’t get any chance to work it out with him, to see his good side, even to make better on the perceived slight of not addressing him as ‘Your Honor, Lord Doctor Weegydo’! I could have apologized, but he stalked out!

“I don’t know why this bothers me so much!”

I heard this story several times, because she told it to me over and over, as we “tapped” through it: over the eyebrow, next to your eyes, all the way down the meridian that stops the fight or flight reaction in your amygdala, now tell me again, and visualize Dr. W tapping with you…

She named the story of this encounter “Mister Weegydo”, in defiance of his issue, and we calmly made plans to deal with the situation.

You see, I can handle this kind of situation that catches you by surprise and rabbit-punches you speechless. Such a “sucker punch” with no warning also activates one’s amygdala, which is why you always think of the snappy retort – but later, when the yelling is over! I have those shouters’ number right here, in my pocket! It’s the pocket of a warm vest I got for the approaching winter, it keeps me from freezing and goes with any other combination of colors, whatever else I’m wearing.

Of course, this may be imaginary, or it may be a pressure-valve relief mechanism like tapping, but I have found that, when I can remember to reach into my pocket and retrieve a scrap of paper that I keep there at all times, I have the answer I need.

A brilliant answer that saves the face of the aggressor, but – like a tiny bit of homeopathic remedy (just the RIGHT remedy!) – it pours oil on the troubled water, drips pure water on the hard-as-rock mud, and opens the jalousie to let in a refreshing breeze.

How did I get this magic pocket and paper scrap? I asked for it!

Well, I got the warm vest (with the pocket) at the thrift shop, but the paper was a windfall!

One day, I was on the phone, actually, and it was certainly not a video call, so I had some privacy for my maneuvers. The caller just stumped me, posed me, stymied me – and somehow my subconscious mind opened me to ask for help. In a split second, I asked God, Her universe and its Field, with my guardian angels, “Please, PLEASE, what can I say?” My unconscious kept leading me, and I absent-mindedly stuck my hand in my pocket, and pulled out a scrap of paper it found there.

It said: “Return to sender – addressee has moved.”

And, inspired, I answered, “Thank you so much for that comment! That is JUST what we are working on this month. Can I get back to you with the outcome in a couple of weeks?”

The meanie, whom the little message from our telephone system that “All calls are recorded for quality assurance” had not calmed down, much less taught any manners, beamed back at me (I could hear the grin of satisfaction!): “Well, I’m certainly glad that you recognize it was your mistake! I’ll be waiting for your call, with the rectification.” And I was FREE!

With the confidence of this resounding success, the habit was formed! The next time someone bludgeoned me into a non-reactive stupor, I reached in my pocket, and found the riposte: “Thank you for shopping at Billy’s”.

So, I answered, “Thank you for sharing that with me! I know that sounds like a cliché, but your feedback is truly useful.”

And they went away and left me alone. Free again! Good Lord Almighty, I’m free again!

So, I offered to sit at Dorina’s place the next day and wait for her Dr. W. to come in! I practiced: Doctor, Doctor, Doctor…

I remembered my visit to Ecuador, where they explained to me that you don’t have to remember anyone’s name: there in Ecuador (I guess, in all of Latin America) a college degree is called a “título”, and university “titles” have taken the place of titles of nobility.

For instance, if one used to be a Duke, or a Count, or a Marquis, now one is an Architect, or an Engineer, or a Doctor! And just the title is good enough – names are optional! No more “Buenos días, José” or “Gracias, Susana” – now “Buenos días, Arquitecto” or “Gracias, Doctora” is plenty!

Mr. – oops! Doctor Weegydo came in bright and early, and I stopped him in his tracks, before he got to my desk! “Good morning, Doctor!” (Actually, I messed up a couple of times, because I called EVERYONE who crossed my threshold “doctor”. The kid with the newspaper figured out I must be kidding, and returned my greeting: “Good morning, Doctor!” right back at me. The other was Dorina and she said, “Aha! I see you’re practicing for my favorite customer!”

For Mr. W., it was love at first sight. He was enthralled with me. So, positive reinforcement, right? I kept shoveling it right on: “Welcome, Doctor, thank you for coming in early, doctor! Exactly what can I do for you today, doctor?”

It worked like a charm, he went away floating in bliss, and it was easy on me, too, as I kept from giggling, which was such an effort that I forgot to look in my security pocket…