When a Blond Teaches You a Lesson.

As I do on most mornings on my way to work, I stopped in to the Starbucks on Alicia Parkway for my Grande Skinny Cinnamon Dulce Latte. I understand that if one could measure a person's masculinity by the type morning coffee they drink I'd probably rank among the lower portion of the scale, but let's move one. Anyway, as I walked into the coffee house I noticed a young blonde woman, who I assumed was an employee greeting all incoming patrons. My mind is still in the typical pre-caffeine haze that is the morning commute, so I didn't really pay attention to the friendly blonde that greeted me.  I simply approached the counter, muttered the order for my drink of choice, paid the lady and took a seat on one of those comfy leather chairs where hipsters usually stare into their netbooks, or the tailored-suit types peruse the pages of the Wall Street Journal.

Skinny Cinnamon Dolce Latte

I was once again approached by the welcoming blond that I casually dismissed moments earlier.  She took a seat next to me, and instantly explained that she noticed so many people buying ham and turkey at the supermarket next door.  I avoided eye contact and pulled out my blackberry to scan through my work e-mails; mostly to get an idea of what I was to expect upon arrival at work but partly to indicate to this talkative blond woman that I was not in the mood for chatter. It appeared that my social artifice worked and she quickly turned her attention to another arriving patron.

While I wait patiently for the announcement of my name to indicate that my drink was ready, I observe this blond greeting machine of a woman. She greets everyone in exactly the same manner and if anyone responds or lingers nearby after the greeting, she instantly goes into the same one-way conversation she tried to start with me. The one about all the hams and turkeys being sold at Ralph's Market. At that moment I noticed her face.

I'm not sure what her condition is called, but the features on her face indicate to me that she was a person with special needs.  Perhaps a mental disorder of some kind, I'm not sure, but it's one of those things you can call just by looking at a person, sort of like Down Syndrome, but not quite. I thought back on how only moments earlier, I coldly dismissed this woman who greeted me so happily and felt a bit guilty.

Normally, when my order is complete I grab it and continue on to the office but today I stayed and returned to the comfy leather chair.  I waited to make eye contact with the blond and when she did her eyes lit up and I noticed they were green. Perhaps all of her greeting is her little way of fishing for someone willing to engage her in conversation and eye contact was the sign that I took a bite at the hook. In any case, she quickly took a seat next to me and unloaded barrage of amusing ramblings. I got the sense that she was trying to unload as much as she could before the clock expired. The conversation was fairly one-sided but I listened intently for five minutes or so.

I learned that her name was Lindsey, but she prefers to be called Linn. She is a stock clerk at Ralph's Supermarket next door.  Her dad is very rich and drives a nice Mercedes Benz that she accidentally scratched with her bike in the garage. Her mother doesn't work, but she stays at home and cooks lunch for her every day. Lindsey is also 19 years old and her job at Ralph's is the first time she's ever worked.  She wants to work there until she is twenty-five and then she is going to try to get a job at Alberston's (a competing grocer) because they have better cakes.

Lindsey asked if I had any kids so I showed her a picture on my phone of my two girls.  She commented on their curly hair and how she liked curly hair. She offered to help me buy a ham at Ralph's with her employee discount, but I politely declined. As it was time for me to leave, I shook her hand and told her to stay out of the rain. She replied by informing me that she was ready for the rain and was wearing and extra shirt underneath because she had gotten wet a day earlier and she doesn't want to get sick.  I said goodbye and she wished me a merry Christmas.

As I walked out, several new patrons were coming in and I could hear Linn's familiar greetings once again. I got in my car and for the rest of the ride I thought about Linn.  I thought about all of the rush most people endure during these holidays. The ridiculous expectations of what you'll receive or what you need to buy for the mindless gift exchange year after year. Thoughts about unemployment, bills, the economy, health care, politics, war, and how all the follies of life in general consume our lives. Yet, a simple girl like Linn finds victory in getting someone to listen to her stories about her bike and her obsessions with Christmas ham.

Even after her little victories, she doesn't just contently retreat into the crowd. Instead with exponentially renewed confidence she undertakes her next adventure. Surely she will share her little stories with a few more folks before her shift at Ralph's Supermarket begins. Hopefully, through that process she will show a few more people what I learned from Linn today: To be winner you sometimes have to be a little retarded.

Ultimately, that is what life is all about, right? A measure of all the little lessons you've learned and how they have come to shape you as an individual. Sometimes those lessons come from the most peculiar places and today I want to thank Linn for teaching something new.