Friday, November 26, 2010

Rewards For Facing Your Fears


Today, after almost two months away from my old job and any social issues and concerns I might have had surrounding it, I found myself walking back through those doors, as a customer. When I arrived, more people than I could ever have expected to see had the place locked down, but that may have been due to my visit coinciding with Black Friday. It may be common to all small stores and pro shops with a solid base of repeat customers, but I cannot think of a single customer  who ever missed showing their face at the shop on Black Friday. That may have been due to the deals or due to having the day off to shop, but anyone even remotely involved in the hobby seemed to stop by. So, to put it simply, though I was overwhelmed by the large presence, I can't say I was completely surprised. Whether or not it was a pleasing presence is a query of which both sides I am still attempting to quantify. So, I figured I might as well continue that quantification in a textual manner, a blog post for the laymen who might choose to read this.

When I walked in, it seems I had to walk through somewhat of a wall of the people I would have preferred never to see again. They made up the "front line" of sorts, but my preference in reaction became evidently clear. I was not going to let them have any power in determining in guiding my actions, or at least not let them think so. So, when they greeted me, attempting to act as if no harm had been committed, I reacted in a reserved but nonchalant manner. I believe in giving everyone the benefit of the doubt, whether I choose to like them or not, and this instance would be no different. I allowed them to think that things had been swept under the rug and that I held no ill-feeling or ill-intent towards them. That is, mostly, a truthful statement. I honestly don't harbor any such feelings towards them, but that does not mean I would ever let them get close to me. Though they have been a major source of pain in my life, they taught me a few things, if unintentionally. Thanks to them, I have learned to pay a little more attention to how vulnerable I allow myself to be. That's saying two things, I guess. Though I have not chosen to block others out, I have made a choice to be more careful about who I chose to give that opportunity to get close to me, to get to know about my weaknesses and not just my strengths, the parts of my identity that, though sometimes embarrassing, make me who I am. The second part of that statement is that I have also chosen to rethink how quickly I attach the term "friend" to those in my life. I had to rethink what it meant and what qualifications it held. I guess you could call it selective and somewhat self-involved, but I've come to realize I would have felt a lot less emotional pain if I had more clearly outlined how much importance these people should have held to me. Though I will try to withhold specifics, I will try to share enough to convey my message. I basically had allowed myself to drop into a sadder place than I choose to call home because I felt I had been crossed and abandoned by some very dear friends, but, as I reflected on it, I started to think about what a true friend was and how they would have acted. Since I determined that the actions of these people did not fall within the bounds of how a friend would have reacted, I told myself that I should not have tried to squeeze them into that category. Once I made that decision, I started to feel a lot better about things. I realized that I had placed too much importance on their opinion and should have drawn more on people that showed more compassion towards me, or at least just given less credit to these people. Though they wanted to hug me and push things away now, their previous actions left me anxious, to say the least, and definitely reserved, but I like people to feel content with themselves and at peace, even if their actions have left me far from such a feeling.

After that, I walked in and was greeted, literally, with open arms by the crowd of customers in the store. I believe I can count seven gentlemen between the ages of thirty and fifty who went right in for a hug. Though they had always shown their appreciation for me, these men, who I believed to be somewhat old-fashioned in their machismo, had, to my knowledge, never shaken my hand. I come back after two months, on their side of the counter, and I get a hurricane of kind words and hugs. Though I was stressed to be there in the first place, I never felt more welcome. It was almost tough to get to the counter to take care of the one "item of business" that I had given myself as a motive to return to the old dojo, the old "home of the Sizzle" as I once called it.

So, I walked up to the counter, shook hands with the staff, only a couple of which I did not consider coworkers or close friends. The couple I did consider friends, however, almost seemed to light up, and I'm hoping that wasn't just wishful thinking on my part. A friend, who I will refer to as "The Machine", took over my position and seemed pleased to see me. Though he was busy, we exchanged a few words, spoke of some random shared interests and just did what friends do, talked about nothing, and that felt just right. I walked to the end of the counter and found a friend, who I will refer to as "Shrek", whose intentions became instantly clear. I was going to get a big bear hug, and I was ready for it. I wasn't ready for him to pick me up as he hugged me, but I can't say it didn't make me feel a bit loved. We all talked and hung out, squeezing in a few words between customers, with me doing my fair share of that interaction with customers, but after a while, it was time for me to buy the item for which I came and part ways. So, "The Machine" grabbed the Magpul Dynamic Shotgun DVD that just arrived and asked our old boss, "Catch-22", to ring up my transaction. That was a little tense at first as, though he seemed unequally kind towards me during my employment, he was somewhat feared, even by customers as being somewhat crude in interaction. We gave him the name "Catch-22" because you could be wrong no matter what your decision or action. That was the role of the employee in his eyes. Everyone had more than once fallen into the role of "fall guy" and been publicly ridiculed for it. To top it off, he carried that aggression over to unsuspecting and undeserving customers. I could go on for hours, but let's just say his style was "legendary" in the industry and community, but he was always strangely kind to me. Well, he seemed pleased to see me, we exchanged a few words about my current status and goals in life, and he gave me a solid discount on my purchase. Let's just say that my interaction with the staff who I consider almost family was somewhat mixed but mostly positive.

Though my interaction with friends both in the store and outside made my exit anything but timely, that was pretty much the conclusion of my visit as I parted towards another chosen destination, TAD Gear (link below). I definitely don't regret my return to the old stomping grounds. I did not want to remove this whole group of people from my life, and I didn't want to remove myself from being able to enjoy that store and that community. I eventually had to face my fear of returning, and it was, though somewhat stressful, definitely satisfying. I got a little shaky for a moment, but it was rewarding. I was able to almost entirely push the bad parts aside and was rewarded with a kind reception. To top it off, my material rewards were far from short. I was able to score myself a nice copy of a DVD some special person kept telling me about, and I was able to enjoy a nice trip to TAD Gear to both swap some banter with a good friend and pick up a couple choice items, and when  I got home, I was able to enjoy the tastiest of my rewards. I promptly filled my mouth with the sweetness that lies withing a delicious It's-It Ice Cream Sandwich, and I think I may have previously let it slip that I am definitely a big fan of those. For me, those seem to be the perfect rewards for facing your fears.

Links:
TAD Gear: Website

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