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February 5th 2009
My granddaughter made a very insightful observation this last weekend. She was staying with us while her mom and dad were away for a short vacation, and so Susan took her out on Saturday for a special date.
They were at the hairdresser together. Susan’s gift to her was a hair trim and a little lightening of her hair. She’d been to a certain hairstylist before, but because she was booked, Maddy was served by another younger woman.
After the appointment was over, my wife asked Madeline how it had gone—her answer was, “I loved it! She was the only hairdresser I’ve ever been to, who made me feel like a real person!”
“What do you mean?”, Susan pressed.
“Well normally the ladies who do my hair talk to mommy, ask her what they should do with my hair, and don’t even notice that it’s my hair they’re working on. This lady (she said her name) called me by my name, asked me what I liked and took interest in everything I was doing in my life. I want to go back to her again!”
Madeline just turned nine, and her comments reminded me very much of a remark my daughter had made when she was about nine also.
I was talking to Susan about one of the leaders of our church, and Kelly had been listening. “Who are you talking about daddy?” she asked.
When I described the man, she remembered him and remarked, “Oh, you mean the man who makes me feel like I’m invisible.”
When I asked her what she meant by feeling invisible, she explained that he could be standing right in front of her, but would look past her as if she were not there.
Have you ever felt invisible, or insignificant in the eyes of someone you’ve met?
Thinking about this over the last week, I’ve been watching how I treat people, and how they must see me when I’m talking to them. For example, I was eating in a restaurant a few days ago with an associate. When the waitress came up to our table and greeted us, I purposely looked at her, noticed her name and smiled at her. But my friend continued looking at me and didn’t even give her a sideways glance.
When she came to take our order, he still did not look at her, but curtly gave her his order as if she were a lowly slave. I asked him during the meal if he’d noticed the name of the waitress, but the unhappy truth was, to him, she’d been invisible.
Every one of us subconsciously puts a number on the head of every person we come into contact with in the day. We grade them between 1 and 10 on the level of significance they have to us. A 1—4 means that to you they have little value; 5—7 means that they are alive and breathing people; but an 8—10 will shift our attitude to say, “You are important to me! You are a valuable person and I am so happy to be in your presence!”
The privilege is each of ours. We can influence people around us to feel invisible, or to feel like they have great worth. What an honour we’ve been trusted with every day.
- Barry Buzza
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