Don't Panic
March 3, 2025
I have worked in retail for over a year and a half now. Throughout that time, I have learned a lot. My training at my past two jobs was pretty comprehensive, though most of what I learned was through experience or coaching. For the past few months, I started to feel like I knew enough that I was too comfortable. Days have been blurring together, nothing interesting ever happens. I've been going beat for beat along my script, turning each page hoping the next will be different and it never is. If my life was a TV show, this would be the slowest and most boring season. Imagine it:
Your main character gets the job he always wanted as a kid - working at the LEGO Store, and this is all you can come up with? This man just graduated college, his last job he was a supervisor - a damn good one at that! Then there's the riveting conclusion to that arc, another story for later. Suddenly, he's stuck behind a counter like a Skyrim NPC, repeating the same script to every guest he sees. If I was watching that, I'd change the channel and never look back. At that rate the story is over isn't it?
For clarification, I do not hate my job. I'm actually very happy to help our guests, I trust every one of my coworkers, and once again this is the LEGO Store. But I like it too much and I got complacent. We all write our own stories, and I stopped. I haven't written anything since I graduated, save for this. And when we stop writing our stories, God will pick up the pen, write the most asinine sentence, and cram it back into our hands. That brings me to my favorite additions of his this week. As I said, I am very experienced and well trained in retail. But there's two things that absolutely nothing I've encountered in the past prepared me for: time travelers, and crying children.
Much to my dismay and likely yours, the time traveler story is boring. A woman walks into the store minutes before closing, bug-eyed but pupils like pinholes. Her face glistens as if it was misted with Rust-Oleum. A fleece is draped around her shoulders like a cloak and vinyl gloves are pulled tight on her hands. She declares to me and my supervisor that she is "Lubna from the future!" Her predictions? The mall will become a 24 hour establishment, LEGO bans the Bonsai Tree for being offensive to Intel, and she owns the food industry. I know you have questions. No we don't know if Intel referred to the renowned computer components manufacturer, and yes the entire food industry. She leaves and we let mall security know there is a time traveler running around. That must have been a fun call to receive. I was hoping the writers had more ideas than a business mogul from the future that huffs spray paint.
Today, I encountered something I was far less prepared for. See in the case of Lubna, I was able to leave her to my supervisor, as I felt he was better equipped. And he later instructed me on how to handle such a situation. For those wondering, this comes from his expertise as a nursing student, do not attempt to correct their delusions. It may seem counter-intuitive, but there is no changing their mind, and any attempt to do so risks them becoming belligerent. Brush up on those improv skills, go with whatever they say unless it's to orient them in space or time. Remind them the day of the week, give them proper directions, but please do not tell them it's impossible to own the entire food service industry. It's just capitalism, that happens all the time.
For this story, I had no notice, no fallback, no friends to phone. Just this kid who wandered into our store, looked to be around six. And as quickly as he entered, he ran right out with a LEGO prison set that was bigger than him. However he was able to sprint down the foyer with that thing, I'll never know. What I did know was I was not authorized or paid enough to chase after him. I was about to instead notify one of the supervisors what had happened, when I saw the kid being marched back to our doors by his mom, sobbing an ocean as he dragged the set back to us. The retail associate in me whispered into my ear to just take the set, put it back on the shelf, thank the parent, and get back to my job tending the door. His voice was drowned out by two other very loud and passionate voices.
The first voice came from my blood, the blood of a teacher. My mother is one, her parents were, my brother is, and they all insist that I am too. For some reason, I ignored them and instead spent four years of my life in film school. But seeing this kid trudging towards me with his torrential downpour of tears immediately activated whatever genes were passed down to me. I say that because I was certainly never trained to be a teacher. I respect the profession immensely, but I never imagined myself having the patience or skills to deal with what my mom or brother does on a daily basis. I sometimes struggle even in my current job with talking to kids, and I'm unfortunately unsure if that's due to their social skills, or mine. Despite all that, for a split second I felt like I knew exactly what to do. It's like that feeling you only read about, that adrenaline that lets mothers lift cars to save their children, except instead of brute strength it went to emotional intelligence. The teacher in me started shouting in my ear that I knew what to say.
The second voice was one I hadn't heard in a while. The opposite of the first, it was a child. This child knew what it was like to be that boy, I'll tell you why. This child once saw a pile of cash on his mom's nightstand. Without really thinking, hoping to save up for some cool toy he grabbed it and added it on top of his allowance. This kid didn't know he was stealing. But he sure did when he was done being scolded. Mistakes happen, but when you make one without knowing it's wrong at first, the guilt hits impossibly hard, like a garbage truck going mach thirty. I knew also that kids have simple minds. Think from the perspective of a six year old being told you just stole something. Stealing you already know is a crime, and criminals are punished by being dragged to prison. And now you have to take this thing you stole back to who you stole it from: some giant three times your height, and he looks you right in the eye. While I'm not a trained teacher, I spent a long time as a kid, and I remember what it was like to be one. I recognized that look of oblivion turned into complete terror and crippling guilt. And in that moment, the child in me screamed at me to fulfill a promise I made him.
For the record, this kid in the mall wasn't being dragged or scolded. The mother honestly looked just as scared, immediately explaining to me that the kid was just trying to show her a set he wanted, he wasn't even going to keep it. I nodded, having already gathered that much, and knelt down to the kid. I was uncertain he could even hear me through his endless crying, especially since his mother was already consoling him to no avail. I reached out to him and told him he wasn't going to be punished, that I knew it was just a mistake. The tears started to let up, his panting slowed. After a few more words of assurance, I reached out for a fist bump, which he returned. Then his mother picked him up, thanked me, and I grabbed the set to take back into the store. Right as I turned around, I saw two of my supervisors right in the doorway. They were off-duty, just happened to be leaving at that time, and they asked me what happened. I briefly explained the situation. Now it was my turn to be nervous, I left the door unattended and attempted to console a crying child for the first time in my life. One of the supervisors, with whom I spent most of my shifts with, said I handled the situation well. The relief washed over my body as I returned the box to the shelf.
This entire exchange, from when the kid ran in to when I put the box back on the shelf lasted probably around three minutes total, barely the length of a pop song. And it took my three hours to recount everything I felt in that moment. It is almost two in the morning now and I am determined to finish this oddly introspective post. This is for a few reasons. For starters, it felt amazing. I can't stress this part enough. This could be a memory this kid carries with him for the rest of his life, much like my own. He may never remember my name, and probably couldn't see my face through all those tears. But when this memory comes back to carve up his nights, he'll remember the part where the tall, scary stranger was actually nice and understanding. Whether I get recognized for it by him or anyone else is irrelevant, just making that difference in his day excited me. I had an overwhelming sense of pride in my work for the first time in... honestly years. What this will do for my career and life trajectory remains to be seen, but one thing is for certain. I am inspired, I want to continue to help people in this way.
My other point is more of a call to action. I've noticed a distinct lack of empathy in this world lately, and many of you have probably noticed it too. And this is especially the case with children. We rush so quickly to grow up that we forget what it's like to be that scared child. We become the adults that refused to understand us when we were little. We cannot let this happen. Whenever you talk to someone, take a second and seriously consider their perspective. It can seem hard, but do it enough and it becomes second nature. Imagine what it's like to be them, their experiences, how they're seeing the world around them. And more importantly, don't wait for your hero moment. You all saw that scene in whatever superhero movie of your generation and wanted to be that hero. For me it was in Spider-Man 2 when Peter runs into a burning building without his powers and rescues a little girl. And we eagerly await our chance to have that moment, and get our fifteen seconds of fame on the evening news. But Superman doesn't only save the planet when it's needed. He's constantly listening for people in distress, big problems or small. Before he had the Bat-Signal, Batman would tune into police radios and use that to find trouble. Now I am not saying you need to do that, in fact I would encourage you to not do that. You don't need super hearing either, all around you people are struggling even from the most minor inconveniences. Just focus on that, hold the door open for people, give someone directions when they're lost, surprise your friends with lunch. If everyone lifts just a little bit of weight where they are in the world, all together we will make life on this little speck hurdling through the universe more bearable. We live in a beautiful world. Be a hero, just for one day, and make it even more beautiful.