I genuinely believed I was amusing myself.
I had just been dumped by someone I genuinely adored, my rent had gone up, and my boss was breathing down my neck. It had been a difficult week at work. By Friday, I was running on coffee, sarcasm, and the kind of resentment that makes you laugh at other people’s hardships rather than feeling their pain.
I didn’t give it a second thought when I saw her at the grocery store because of this.
She was totally unconscious, slumped over the handle of a shopping cart. Her clothing was soiled with what appeared to be ketchup, or possibly baby food, and her hair was falling out of an untidy bun. Two small children, about three or four years old, were huddled together in the cart, sound sleeping, as if they were in a makeshift nest surrounded by cereal boxes and bags of frozen peas.
I gazed. Without saying anything else, I took out my phone, snapped a picture, and typed: “Some moms just give up 🙄 #LazyParenting #Seriously?” Before I even got to the checkout line, I pressed post.
It was somewhat of a hit at first. Some of my pals chuckled. “Ugh, same type I saw last week,” someone commented. She is most likely on her phone all day as well. Not everyone was amused. One remark said, “This isn’t funny, it’s sad.” “You have no idea what she’s dealing with.” I gave an eye roll. Online users are constantly willing to jump down your throat. I dismissed it and continued to scroll.
I was discovered by karma two nights later. She was also really genuine.
I was in my apartment, trying to be healthy for once, and it was late. I purchased a spaghetti squash since, reportedly, those who are successful eat it. I was clueless about what I was doing. The knife slipped while I was jabbing at the wretched thing as if it owed me money. I didn’t even notice the blood yet, but when I did, the agony was intense.
As I struggled for my keys, I snatched up a towel and tightly wrapped it around my hand while repeatedly repeating, “You idiot.” I didn’t consider. In the hopes that I wouldn’t faint en route, I simply got into the car and drove quickly to the closest emergency room.
I was trembling by the time I rushed through the emergency room doors. I angrily yelled at the admission nurse, “I cut my hand.” It’s not good. I really need someone right now.
The receptionist looked up just a little. “Sit down, someone will be with you soon.”
“What? No. Here, I’m bleeding.
“You’re steady. Sit down, please.
I heard a voice behind me just as I was about to start a commotion. Low and serene, almost too steady.
“You know who I am?”
Confused, I turned. I froze after that.
She was there. The grocery shop saleswoman. Scrubs in place of a soiled T-shirt, hair still tied back in an untidy bun, but the same worn-out eyes. They were staring right through me now.
“No?” she repeated. “A supermarket? Cart? Two children?
My mouth opened, but nothing came out.
She was holding a stylus in one hand and a tablet in the other. “There is no risk to your life from your wound. People will notice you. Just not at this moment. She turned on her heel and pointed with the tip of her pen to the waiting room.
When I finally found my voice, I said, “Wait.” “I apologize.”
She made no reversals.
With pain shooting up my arm, I sat there with my hand to my chest. But my stomach hurt more than anything else. Here was the woman I made fun of, moving through the fluorescent-lit corridors, likely barely getting two hours of sleep, and still saving lives, including mine. I had referred to her as lazy.
An hour or so later, the doctor came to see me. I required six stitches. It wasn’t fatal, but it wasn’t insignificant either. Despite my pain and stress, I couldn’t stop thinking about how fortunate I was to be able to ask for assistance. She wasn’t even allowed to take a break at the store without being made fun of.
I removed the post as soon as I came home. I wrote an apology after that. It’s a genuine thing, not just a notes app. Naturally, I didn’t give her a name or post a picture of her, but I did report the incident and what I had discovered. It seemed… essential. As if it were the least I could.
I was surprised by how many individuals thanked me, even though I had anticipated some criticism. Some even talked about their own careless moments and how they had changed. Although it didn’t reverse what I had done, it might have replaced it with something better.
A few weeks went by.
Before work one morning, I made a stop at a coffee shop close to the hospital. I heard a voice behind me say, “Hey,” as I waited for my order.
I looked back and saw her once more.
She appeared different, less tormented but still exhausted. With her purse slung over her shoulder, she carried a coffee in one hand. She said, “I saw the post.”
I simply nodded since I was at a loss for words. “I meant it.”
After examining me for a moment, she smiled slightly. “Next time, simply inquire about someone’s well-being. The majority of us aren’t. However, we don’t have to endure further mockery.
“I will,” I said. “I swear.”
After giving a single nod, she left. That was it.
But after that, something changed.
I became more attentive. It’s everywhere, not just online. I began to inquire about people’s well-being. They occasionally said “yes,” and occasionally “no.” But the fact that I asked mattered.
Nowadays, it’s easier to take a picture than to lend a helping hand. However, I unfortunately discovered that simplicity does not equate to morality.
Yes, I did think I was being humorous. I mistakenly believed I was posting a joke. However, it turns out that every “lazy” moment has a backstory that you most likely aren’t aware of, and occasionally that backstory may simply end up putting you back together piece by piece.
Please share if this even briefly got you thinking. You can never tell who could benefit from the reminder.
