What the world needs now...

(Originally written 12/17/11)
My friend, Nat, is, well...there's no way around it, he's way smarter than me. I think I knew it pretty much right off the bat, the fateful morning we met sophomore yeat of high school during our pre-school assembly in that teeny chapel/library room. It was never, as far as I can recollect, a sore subject, more just an inescapable truth. Wierdly I still remember his SAT scores. Luckily we got along ok; we actually get along even better now, which is always nice. However, I contend that there are two things that Nat was wrong about. The first is the revised way he pronounces his last name. I mean, c'mon, man, talk about obtuse...it would be like me going around saying, "No, it's pronounced HAHNdel." Some things are just better Americanized.

The second one was probably a bit more significant, and it has stuck in my brain ever since. We were having one of our quintessential enriching class-dialogues on denominational distinctives and their implications, and, well, from time to time I was an arrogant punk in high school. Yeah, probably even now.... anyway, he always managed to state his views eloquently and diplomatically, whereas I was significantly less...nuanced. I had just gotten done saying something thoughtful and edifying when he turned to me and laughed good naturedly. "Nat, do you think I seek out conflict?" He smiled. "I think sometimes if there's smoke....you sort of try to fan it into a flame." Had I something witty and even better, incindiary to say, I'm sure I would have, but I was struck by the truth of his statement and for once kept my mouth shut.

Fast forward to tonight, and my wife gets home with our sick 7 month old, and tells me the Dr. says he has a bad ear infection. The poor guy had been such a trooper, getting top teeth, so congested he can't breathe and wakes himself up, and was still sweet and cuddly. It had been a nutty Christmas season, and we were all pooped. Jenny had called in the anti biotics as well as his acid reflux meds to the local CVS earlier, so I called to see if they had arrived. "Yep, they'll be ready in about 15 minutes." I thanked her, hung up the phone, and ran over after 20, just before supper so we could get in two doses tonight.

Once I got there the pharmicist asked me who the prescription was for and I told her my son Isaac, and that there were actually two. She came back with attitude, and informed me that the reflux meds required 2 days to mix and let sit in the fridge, that they couldn't just do that on the spot. Next time I should plan better and give them ideally 3 days notice.

"Oh," I said, "I didn't realize that."

She told me the other meds would be ready in about 15 minutes.

"Huh," I said, "when I called 20 minutes ago they said they'd be ready in like 15."

Now she was really exasperated, and informed me that no, once I showed up they put me onto some other more pertinent list and my new 15 minute counter began.

"Now if you'll excuse me," she said, motioning/almost blocking me aside with her arm, "I have to help this gentleman who's been waiting."

I bit my tongue and stepped back. She helped him, looked over at me and said matter-of-factly, "It's been crazy here today."

"Yeah," I replied, "it's been crazy at my house, too. I have a screaming 7 month old with an ear infection."

"That's why we'll get those right out..." her voice trailed off as she turned back-to mid sentence and walked away, leaving me alone to contemplate the sincerity of her empathy.

So I waited, and burned just a little on the inside. The other pharmicist, who hadn't stopped working since I got there, came over with the meds and kindly explained them to me, as well as getting a quote on the reflux meds, when they would be ready, and why they were so stinking expensive. I hesitated for a moment, wondering if it would be worth it to say something.

"You ok?" she asked.

I thought about it, thought about dinner waiting for me and my sick baby, and said yes, I was fine, and left.

I told my wife during supper what had happened, and she looked at me knowingly.

"I know the one you mean, she's been nasty to me before, too."

I had sort of deduced from her demeanor and the way her coworkers interacted with her, that she had some type of seniority and I wasn't the first party to receive some haste explanation.

So I went back.

Since I left the store the first time I had been wondering about being a person of grace while being a person who strives for justice. Call me melodramatic, these are the thoughts that occur to me when I'm on the receiving end of a pharmacist who has had a rough day.

I could just let it go like a normal person. It's a small town and you'll probably run into her again. I should just let it go.

No, I shouldn't, and here's why: for every 10 people that get treated like that by this woman, 8 will probably say nothing and just assume they were at fault for...something. One might say something under their breath or maybe even explode in the store. The other person might go right to the top, chew this woman out to her supervisor, on a CVS website, etc., but they wouldn't say anything to her face. And they'd all be wrong.

Am I lobbying for conflict? I sincerely prayed that I wasn't.

Was I seeing a wisp of smoke and trying to fan it into a flame?

No. Because conflict, when done right, is actually a means of reducing conflict.

Conflict, when employed correctly, can actually be a form of love.

It is direct, and gives the offending person the respect of seeing their accuser and explaining themselves.

It is directed appropriately, not at my 4 year old who wonders why Daddy was mad all night, or my wife who gets a distracted spouse for the few minutes we have alone each day, or worse, a spouse who verbally spews on her and feels better while she wonders why she feels worse.

It seeks justice by the most efficient means possible, without gossip, without slander, without a boycott of a franchise because of the insensitivity of one employee. It is justice motivated by reconciliation rather than vengeance.

So I went back into the CVS and asked the friendly pharmacist her name. She told me her first, and I asked for her last as well.

"Do you mind if I ask why?"

"Yes, I'm writing a complaint about one of your employees, but I also want to write a recommendation for you. You were very courteous and helpful."

I told her I needed to speak with the other pharmacist. She appeared uncomfortable with the idea and suggested I speak with someone over the phone. Clearly she didn't want an incident in the store, which was perfectly understandable.

"Look," I said, "I'm fine. I just need you to be a third party when I speak to her."

She appeared slightly relived and agreed.

Finally she summoned me over and I explained who I was and why I was there. I calmly recalled the incident, and how her tone had come across.

"I'm sorry, that wasn't my intent." She was apologetic and wanted this over with, but I had more to say.

"You treated me as if I were being beligerant, and I clearly wasn't. You acted as though I was slow and should have understood the ins and out of pharmaceuticals. I wanted you to hear this from me, face to face, before I log a complaint on the CVS website and leave a message with your district manager."

She was falling over herself to apologize. This clearly wasn't something she was accustomed to.

"I just thought I recognized you and having been in here before you knew how this worked."

I had never gotten this prescription here before, and had to reason to "get how it worked". Furthermore, I pointed out that even if I had and had simply forgotten, I was a paying customer and deserved some courtesy, like her equally busy coworker had displayed to me.

"Look, my wife and I are both working, both in grad school, and raising two kids, one of whom has a bad ear infection right now. I just didn't expect to be treated like that when I went to pick up his meds."

She again apologized sincerely, and said she needed to work on that, that she was thankful for my feedback.

"What are you in grad school for?"

"Seminary," I replied, winking at her.

She smiled, and I could see the beginnings of tears in the corner of her eyes.

We shook hands, and I left, feeling like if I saw her again not only wouldn't it be awkward, but she would in face be sincerely appreciative as she had been in the store. Not because I'm wise and right and she was wrong, but because conflict is hard. That's why people avoid it. But it can be an encouraging thing for both parties.

I didn't want to ask for some reimbursement like a gift card, that would have proven I was playing an angle.

I won't write that complaint because I don't know this woman's story, what's going on at home, how hard her day has been how often she's been given the courtesy of difficult honesty. Mostly I won't write it because I am highly skeptical of an appropriate response from a higher up at any large corporation. Besides...I don't want to write it now anyway. This woman heard me, and I listened to her, and that's all I wanted to begin with.

So in the end, perhaps Nat- smart guy that he is :)- wasn't wrong about either thing at all. I may not shy away from conflict as soon as I should, though I hope I enter into it more humbly than I used to. In the end I pray every day that God would grow me and use me, and when by his grace I care more about reconciliation than my rights, I see that the primary function of justice-true justice- was displayed on the cross. It is a means to an end. It is about reconciliation, not punishment.