Being kind matters

Growing up, I have always considered myself a relatively nice person. What does it even mean to be nice though? Opening doors for others? Sharing your dunkaroos at lunch? Saying hello to your neighbour? How can we tell if someone is kind? We know that everybody has the ability to be nice but we also have the ability to be not-so-nice. I want to share a little story with you all from this past weekend that really triggered this post. It’s an experience that really challenged my understanding of kindness towards others and allowed me to see how one act of redemption can go a loooong way. Why being kind really matters. 

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On Friday evening, I called the 1-800 number on the back of my bank card to inquire about something. A customer service representative answered and explained to me, that the information I was looking forward was not something that could be done over the phone. The women suggested that I go into my local branch to discuss the matter further during business hours. I thanked her for her time and assured her that I would be doing just as she had suggested. Before I could end the phone call, she interrupted me with an issue that had come to her attention concerning my bank card. I had some trouble understanding her (she had an accent that contributed to this) and calmly asked her to reiterate what she was saying. After several minutes of confusion, my frustration began to build. I wasn’t quite sure why I was beginning to feel extremely irritated over such a trivial matter but I could hardly contain myself. What happens next, is not something I’m proud of. I let my temper get the best of me and said to the women, “can you just transfer me to someone who can actually speak English?” I immediately felt bad.”Sorry, I mean is there anyone who can help me understand a little better?” I quickly added. There was silence on the other end and at first I thought she might have actually just transferred me to another representative but after a few seconds, it was clear she was still there. I began to apologize again when she interrupted and said, “hold on, I’ll transfer your call”. Her voice trembled, and it was clear that she was on the verge of tears. I spent the next minute backpedaling and apologizing for my very rude comment. I explained that It was not my intention to upset her and that I was in the wrong. She began to cry. I stood where I was on the street, in complete shock. Did I really just make someone cry? Why was I so mean? She didn’t deserved to be treated like that. No one does. I asked her, “can you forgive me? I promise I’m usually a nice person”. She finally spoke through her tears and said “you have no idea how hard it is, I am yelled at all day — everyday”. She continued, “I was just trying to help you understand and I’m sorry my English is bad but I’m trying”. In that very moment, I felt completely overwhelmed with emotion. I was sad. I felt guilty. I felt like a bad person. My heart raced and my eyes filled with tears as I heard a stranger sob on the other end of my IPhone. I expressed my deepest regret and told the women that I wish I could take it back. I would even talk to her manager to let he/she know what a wonderful job she’s doing. She calmly assured me that it was not necessary. She realized that I too, was now crying. I walked over to a near by bench and attempted to control myself but failed miserably. An officer who was walking out of a nearby coffee shop even stopped to ask me if I was alright. The women then explained to me that she had just moved to the Country from the Philippines only four months ago. I asked her for her name, if she was married or had any kids and she sadly replied, “my husband passed away six months ago and that is why I am here working. So I can send money to my daughters”. She told me all of this through tears and it was heart wrenching. I felt like someone had reached down inside of me and ripped out my heart. I could not believe how sad I felt in that moment or how compelled I was by this women’s story. I hung up with her and just sat on this bench — sobbing. I had never felt more sorry in my entire life.

When I got home that evening, I was a mess. A hot freakin’ mess. I called my mother to tell her that she had raised an awful human being and then my best friend to tell her that I was basically the worst person ever. They both empathized and continuously explained, “we all let our tempers flare sometimes”. However, it just did not sit right with me. I cancelled my plans for the evening and just sat in my apartment staring into space. I knew that I could not go to sleep with such a heavy chest. My thoughts raced and finally led me to calling the 1-800 number once again. I had no game plan or idea as to what I would say to the person whom would answer this call. After the automated options, a women picked up and asked what she could do to help me. I choked on my words as I tried to explain that I was speaking to someone earlier that I may have offended and that I wanted to make things right. She laughed and said, “aww that is so sweet of you but really, it’s fine!”. I began to cry again. I explained to her that I knew she would think I was being silly but I really want to be able to do something special for this women. Without going into detail about what Ann had shared with me about her family or hardships, I told the women that she could really use some kindness tonight. She placed me on hold for a few minutes and when she returned, explained to me that she would send out a mass email to try and find Ann. The women attempted to make me feel better by expressing her gratitude for such a gesture. I thanked her and hung up. 

About an hour later, I received a phone call from a 1-800 number and when I answered, I was met with a gentlemen who was managing the call center that evening. I had no idea what to expect from the phone call but I had hoped he was calling to discuss Ann. The man expressed his appreciation for my gesture and congratulated me on being one of the few people who actually take the time to call back and apologize. I told him over and over again that If I could, I would take back what I said and that everyone should be treated with respect. He then explained to me that they had chosen Ann as the employee of the month and that she would be recieving a $1000 bonus with a paid vacation in Florida. I was thrilled. I felt my heart smiling! I could not believe that they would do something like that to help me rectify my actions. The manager explained, “we usually don’t get kind people like yourself who want to do something special for our employees — this is the least we could do”. I cried tears of joy. He quickly added, “you should be happy to know that Ann is crying too, happy tears”. I knew in that very moment why being kind matters.  I really hope this can inspire you all to go the extra step in helping someone feel better. We’re all human and we all deserve to be treated with compassion and respect.

 BE COURTEOUS. BE GENEROUS. BE KIND

You feel like home to me

Love’s taken me across the map
All the way to hell and back
Gave everything I have and
Lost my mind a couple of times 

This week’s song shuffle is a country song that I heard in an episode of The Bachelor (don’t judge me). I thought it was really sweet and tells a great love story. It’s really creative how Sarah Darling(what a cute last name) can express how she feels through a neat analogy that features different states.

Here’s zlowdown…

Explain why you chose your blog’s title and what it means to you.

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I’m going to begin by saying that I wish I had come up with some clever blog title after thinking long and hard but I merely stumbled upon mine in the most random way.

Oh my gosh, I’m freakin’ Bri ish!

I was doing what any other normal person would do on a Sunday afternoon — call my cousin and pretend I had an accent(duh!). Growing up, I had this obsession with my British family members and I would beg them to teach me how they did that thing with their mouth. You know — the thing where they sound incredibly cool and different. Of course, they would always reply with a simple ” but American sounds so much better”. Those silly Brits had no idea that being Canadian meant I didn’t speak American! 

Fast forward to later that evening and there I was; staring at my Macbook with a blank title as I struggled to create my first WordPress blog. I knew that I wanted to write about what I would find interesting and what I relate to the most. I was a 20something looking to give people the honest insight on people my age and what they’re up to (because no where else on the web is there such a thing).

After many failed attempts at a unique blog title (surprise, surprise), I decided to write down some questions. Like what made me an expert on 20somethings anyway? I mean I could barely cook pasta without screwing up. I never know if I’m doing anything right and I still call my mom when my tummy hurts!

THAT’s why he didn’t go to prom with you.

Then, like a lightning bolt (shut up, it’s how I picture it in my mind as I write this) it came to me. I knew that I could offer something to the poor chap who would be reading my mostly useless posts because I was the person all of my friends would go to when they wanted the “411”. I am the girl who people come to when they want to find out how everyone else feels. I was the person that offered the no bullshit straight up advice to your problems when everyone else was afraid to say, “You’re an idiot”. If we went to a party and you wanted to know the skinny on what really happened between that douche bag Blake and annoying Ashley, I’d be your girl. I’ve always been that girl. For as long as I can remember, I have been giving everyone in my life “the low down” on life, boys, sex, family and everything in between.

There was only one problem — the low down, lowdown, low down, lodown, lo-down, a low down were all taken. Ugh, but how can that be? It’s my blog name and it fits my writing profile. Can I request to take the blog name from someone? Fine — I guess I’ll have to improvise.

Bingo!

That’s when I thought, what if I add z (the first letter of my name) to lowdown because it would be me giving you the lowdown? I’ll admit, it sounded really really dumb at first. I paced my apartment saying it over and over and over again to make sure that I didn’t absolutely hate it. Naturally, after saying it so many times I started to do with an accent. A British accent, a Chinese accent and a French accent.

The French accent was perfect. It sounded so eloquent and hilarious at the same time, I couldn’t help myself. I said it over 30 more times with the accent and laughed every time. Well, I do want people to laugh when they read my blog right?

“qui qui”

That’s when I wrote my first blog post and told all of my new friends that when they read my blog title, they should try saying it with a French accent!

Voilà — and there you have it folks.