You can’t change people.
So quit trying.
And, besides that, we aren’t supposed to try and change people.
Not our job.
As well as the fact that God made us different ON PURPOSE!!
We have varied temperament types.
We relate to, and help others, differently.
And everyone blooms in different ways.
I am a melancholy.
I write. Even as my primary way of communicating with others.
It’s an introverted, orderly way of loving and encouraging others.
My mom is an example of the opposite. She is Sanguine. She loves the one-on-one with people. To watch her “work” is to watch a master. As a mature adult, I can still get embarrassed because her way is not my way. But I have quit trying to control her (well…almost quit) and instead watch the beauty of her blooming.
Let me give you some examples:
The drug store: One errand day, we walked into Walgreens where they are trained to greet you with a “Welcome to Walgreens”–like that Mexican restaurant, “Welcome to Moe’s!” I observe people (without trying) and hardly anyone even acknowledges the greeting. I get it. But it still seems rude not to. I was raised with all those southern manners. So I nearly always respond with a polite, “Thank you.”
Well, one day, there was a new, middle-aged, rather non-descript clerk who had started working there. I saw her and acknowledged her, but that was as far as it went for me. I was shopping, after all. I was focused on what I went in there for.
Please don’t think I’m rude because I am far from that. I am very friendly and will engage in some short conversations and will encourage whenever I can. But sometimes I feel like maybe people would rather we DIDN’T engage them while they are busy doing other things as well.
My mom’s first and foremost focus is people. Anywhere and everywhere we go. The overwhelming majority of her vacation photos have people in them—and most are of her hugging smiling strangers!
So, before I knew it, she had walked up to this clerk in Walgreens and she said something I thought was soooo embarrassing!
She said, “You have the cutest dimple.”
Dimple? I had not even noticed a dimple. Was there one? I looked a little more closely as the clerk broke out into an even bigger smile. Yep. There it was.
And then it happened. The magic of my mom. It’s not really magic. It’s love. The woman—this middle-aged, non-descript woman with her big beautiful smile and the dimple on one side said,
“My grandmother always told me that there was a little sugar in my dimple.”
You have GOT to be kidding me!
Right here in Walgreens, in less than 1 minute, my mom had elicited a warm and wonderful memory from this woman. I had the feeling that woman’s day would be good from that moment forward.
The bank: One day, to my consternation, I realized we both had to go in the bank together. Not only that, we had to sit down with the branch manager to talk about something. Before going in, I instructed my mom to “lay low”—to please not talk much. That I didn’t feel like making a scene and I just wanted to get the bank business done. I’m cool. I’m business-like.
Yea, well, so much for that plan. As soon as we walked in, one of the employees recognized me and she smiled and said,
“Hi, Mrs. Vaughn!”
I said my cool, “I’m fine, thanks. How are you doing today?”
And then from behind me I heard a joyful exclamation:
“I’m her mother!”
I turn and look and there’s my mom with a big smile on her face, arms flung high in the air—TA-DAH! Okay, then. So much for laying low, being cool, and not making a scene.
The clerk smiled big and then I saw a ripple effect of other employees trying to pretend they were working but they were all smiling.
“Bringing smiles to people’s faces isn’t such a bad thing, right?” I told my cool self.
We proceeded into the bank manager’s office. He was new. I had an agenda to quickly get done what needed to be done. He had an agenda to introduce himself and try to “sell” the greatness of the bank and some other “products and services.”
This might’ve been fine and easy for him but he was under scrutiny with the supervisor—THE supervisor of all the branches in our area. She was there to watch his performance.
I really felt bad for him because he was going to try to do this with my mother present. He had no idea what was coming—that his orderly agenda simply was not going to be possible.
First of all, they had snacks and she was relishing the little cookies and coffee. That in and of itself was difficult to get past. Then he had to ask her some questions that brought out some long stories—memories, if you will.
I tried to help things along. He kept attempting to go through his spiel—beads of sweat popping out on his forehead. He was so nervous with the supervisor there that he couldn’t seem to enjoy anything at all.
By the time we had finished—about 45 minutes later—the supervisor was practically in stitches! The new manager looked frenzied and confused. We had accomplished our business but he had not been able to get in all his points—quite possibly NONE of them.
I told the supervisor—a woman in her late 50s—to please not judge him on this particular session. With great mirth she said that she wouldn’t and that the last 45 minutes were the most fun she had had in her entire career of banking.
An event: This time it was my brother and his wife’s turn. They took mom to a Cirque du Soleil production in Orlando. My brother dropped the two women in his life at the door. They went inside to find their seats while he parked the car. He told me that when he walked into the auditorium he saw our mom and his wife up on the stage! Apparently they do some kind of pre-show entertainment and they select unsuspecting people from the audience. Of course our mom was selected. She’s a glowing magnet.
A book signing: First of all, I am not a “fan” or a “groupie.” Never have been. Well…maybe a little bit as a teeny-bopper but even then not so much. To me, people are people. I can love and respect and even admire what they do but getting an autograph? I can’t understand the need for that. (Unless it might be worth something later on down the road! Haha.)
I guess because my mom is such a people person, an autograph from someone she admires seems like a great thing.
Many years ago, when Governor Mike Huckabee was running for President, he had written a book and my mom wanted it. And, when Governor Huckabee had a book signing in our area, she wanted his autograph in that book!
Sigh. Here we go.
I wanted to make her happy so I decided to bite the bullet and stand in the long line (of other Sanguines??) in order to get his autograph and a picture. How bad could it be?
Yes, well…Bad. (For the cool introvert.)
First of all, there is the long wait in a line filled with extroverted “fans.” Chatting for an hour +. Mom was in heaven. Me? Not so much.
I kept assessing the movement of the line…and, when close enough, assessing the procedure and protocol for how to approach the governor and get the picture. (A melancholy’s approach to all things—assessing and planning!)
He had people keeping the operation running smoothly. I observed that when you are first in line, you give their designated people your book (they open it to the signing page) and your camera (at the time it was an actual camera!), and then you wait until the people ahead of you get their book signed and photo taken.
It was smooth and efficient. They had it down to a science.
They hadn’t factored in my mother, though. Even I can’t “factor in my mother” (predict her behavior in any given situation) and I have years of experience with her!
So after I had figured out the system, I began rehearsing “the cool thing” I was going to say to the Governor. I didn’t even want to do this at all, but since I was there, I decided I wanted to tell him that I voted for him in the primary and that I respected his positions and was so very happy he had entered the race.
And speaking of racing, that’s what my heart was doing as we got closer and closer.
I was sill-ily nervous about giving my rehearsed spiel. I went over and over it in my head. I hate public speaking of any kind and this was starting to feel a whole lot like that.
Well, I needn’t have worried. ( About my spiel.) Never got to say it. Nope. Because when we got to the front of the line, my mom, in her excitement, zipped past the person who was supposed to keep her from going up to the Governor until it was her turn.
I saw what was happening so I went after my mom and grabbed the back of her shirt to try and pull her back.
She ended up kind of dragging me past the spot where we were supposed to obediently stand until it was our turn.
(We had become a spectacle. Definitely NOT cool.)
There was some commotion as she bee-lined it for the Governor with her book. (The book that you are supposed to give to an attendant who opens it to the appropriate page).
At that moment, he was doing his photo shoot with the couple ahead of us. I’m pretty sure my mom photo-bombed their picture. She was completely oblivious.
I muttered an apology to them, eyes downcast—mortified at the attention we were getting. AND, not just from all “the fans”—but from the Governor himself.
He assessed me and my mom and then he said this to me—to ME!! COOL, obedient, little me!
He said, “Is this your mother?”
I let out a whispered, “Yes, sir.”
He said in his well-known jovial tone, “Well, you need to respect your mother. She raised you and I think she did a good job because you’re here buying my book!” Something like that.
I said, “Yes, sir” again.
{ I felt like a child at the principal’s office. }
I never got to tell him that I voted for him and that I loved what he stood for.
We walked out of the bookstore with me wondering what had just happened.
My mom? She was gleefully examining her autographed book.
I can’t find the photo of Mom with the Governor as of this writing. But when and if I do, I will share it with you!
FOUND IT! Well…not the formal one but this one from the back. You can see the excitement and awe on my mom’s face! (And the back of my head. That’s best. I wouldn’t want to see MY expression…)
So, the message of my story is obvious: we’re all different in how we approach life and people and none of those approaches are wrong. When we try to force people into our mold of behavior it can end up with hurt feelings and strife. Even so, mutual understanding and respect for each other is a good thing to cultivate. And some temperaments types are better at doing that than others! I won’t name names. Ha.