Terry, Charlene, Caroline
The woman who answered the phone at the Social Security office sounded distracted, though more than that.
Before getting to the point of my call, and assuming she was overwhelmed by organizational changes at the agency, I thanked her for her service to the public.
She was silent for a beat, then said, “I just got some terrible news and when the phone rang, I just picked it up. How can I help you?”
“I’m sorry. Want me to call back later?” Don’t say yes, I thought. I’ve read about how hard it is to reach a human at that agency.
“I can help you now. Thank you for appreciating what we do..”
More silence, then, “I just learned that someone in our department died last night. We’re all tore up because she’s the third one who passed in one week. They brought in grief counselors, who will come back now, I guess. So hard to believe. I can help you now, though.”
Now I was silent. Her vulnerability was raw, yet I could hear her showing up for the job. “What were their names? I’m walking for a few days and I’ll pray for them on the trail.”
I felt a little stupid, a little presumptuous, and a lot human. I didn’t want to sound, or be, fake. I’m also not totally comfortable saying I’ll pray for people because I’m just coming back to prayer after a long absence.
“Thank you so much. That would mean a lot. Terry, Charlene, and Caroline. I just can’t believe all three.”
So often, government workers are thought of as bureaucratic (in a negative way), uncaring, and operating by rote. Mostly, I think they’re unseen.
What I experienced on that call was a hurting, dedicated professional who is feeling unmoored, in a department where at least a few others and perhaps a majority, are trying to do good work at a time of disruption and no clear, positive vision for the future.
I tried to presume as little as possible, to be respectful on the call, to not elicit any more emotion than she already felt since there was nothing I could do to help, yet also acknowledge the enormity of her emotions. Tough needle to thread - I felt awkward.
This morning I received an email that the issue I’d called about was resolved. I wish I’d asked for her name as well as Terry’s, Charlene’s, and Caroline’s.
Thank you, unseen, suffering hero. I’m praying for you and your department, too.