When “Pushiness” Goes Too Far…

I really dislike pushy people. This is part of the reason I hate car shopping. I don’t mind going to look at cars at night, and actually, that’s why my husband compromised and did with me this last time. I fear having a pushy salesman come out who only sees me as a dollar sign. I would rather take my time, make sure that I am putting my investment into a vehicle I actually like rather than making a rash decision and end up hating my vehicle.

Now, I’m not saying that all salesmen are pushy. My very first car purchase was wonderful. I don’t remember the guy being pushy at all, even after presenting him an odd situation. It was my first car, and I didn’t know how to drive a standard. I was terrified of test driving a vehicle, so my boyfriend (now husband) did the test driving with me while I was a passenger. The difference between standard and automatic was a world of difference and I knew I wanted a manual. However, I couldn’t drive it. But, I was determined to. So I bought the manual, and my future husband drove it home.

So many nights I spent on the back roads of town, conquering that first gear. Everything else seemed easy, but that first gear threw me for a few loops. Eventually, after a few stalls and squealing tires later, I fell all the more in love with my vehicle, seeing it as more of an extension of myself when driving. It couldn’t have been a better purchase from a very calm salesman who was ready to do what I needed but not ready to just push a vehicle on me, to a financial advisor who was up front and honest, even though he was profiting from selling me the vehicle. He told me right away that vehicles are the worst investment anybody could make because they deteriorate and are hardly ever worth what you pay. The honesty of this place was astounding and they will forever have my respect. The salesman even sent me a card later thanking me for my purchase and adding a P.S. of “Hope you’ve learned to drive your vehicle!” Those are the kind of people I like dealing with.

In my next car purchases, I’ve said no as soon as the salesman got pushy. I don’t live in the same place where I had bought my first vehicle or else I would have bought from there again.

So to avoid speaking about cars the whole time, I’m going to go through something I experienced a few weeks ago when I went to try a new gym.

I have a student who is interested in working out and has been asking me for a workout plan. So in order to help her, I decided I would go check out her gym to see what was available. I also planned on working out there that night since I was already going to be there instead of going to my own gym. It was a bit out of my way, but I didn’t mind doing it to help her.

I was more than prepared to pay for the session. However, I saw an ad that advertised a free gym trial. So I filled out the information, got a call, and arranged a time to come in. It required meeting a manager, getting a tour, filling out paperwork, etc. I also saw an ad with their ad that stated their gym fees were $15 biweekly. It was quite a bit cheaper than my own gym, so this kind of piqued my interest. I actually was interested in learning about these low fees, especially now that I’m here on my own and this is a female-only gym. I was open to the suggestions.

The whole walk-through, discussion, etc. went well. But it came down to the end when she began throwing membership papers in front of me that I politely told her that I am not comfortable with signing up that night. I explained to her that I wanted to check out the gym for myself, to experience what it is like being there in the atmosphere with the other members, with the equipment – to actually use it – and to really be part of the atmosphere. When it comes to a gym, this is crucial to me. I have been working out regularly for years, so I don’t want to put myself in a gym where I don’t feel “pushed” or as “free” to do what I want, especially if you don’t like some of the equipment or how it is set up, which you truly can only experience by doing your workout and feeling the flow of the design.

She did not take that explanation well. She immediately started asking me why I was changing my mind (which I hadn’t), why I possibly couldn’t want to change right away, then started asking what she had done wrong (this could have been a good self-assessment question had she not presented it the way she did), and wouldn’t even let me workout that day. I even explained to her that I wasn’t sure what I was doing this summer (two months away, my gym requires one month’s notice for cancellation) so I would have to discuss it with my husband. But the one thing that I will never forget, aside from her tone and change of discussion, was her face. She had been so smiley and happy to show me around the gym. But the minute I said I wasn’t prepared to sign papers that night, her whole countenance changed. I was given much more pressure, and even the cold shoulder towards the end. As I said, she wouldn’t even allow me to workout at the gym that night. She wrote me a card for a specific time the next day (not even a one day pass to go at my convenience) and made sure I had to see her when I got there. That’s when I knew that I wasn’t coming back.

Now, I know they make their livelihood out of people joining the gym. I would not be upset with her at all for being a little upset I wouldn’t sign up that night. But there is a huge difference between being a little upset and completely being rude in a controlling manner. I did not feel welcome as a visiting person.

Now, some people may feel like I’m just complaining and whining about something that was no big deal, but that is not my intent for I know there are many people who struggle with this. There are people who absolutely hate pushy people, and there are people who need to also work on their person skills. In this case, it is excellent to showcase all the benefits of the gym and be excited for another member. But if the visitor clearly has good reasons for wanting to check the gym out and get a feel for it first, then the manager should be more than welcoming. After all, they do advertise a free trial. The person should feel like they are definitely welcome to use the facility, to get a feel for it, and without the pressure of signing up right away, especially before even being allowed to try the gym for themselves. A position in customer service (any career where you deal with customers) is one in which good training needs to take place. I say this, because I deal with children, adults, teenagers, and every age in between every day. I converse with all personalities, teach all personalities, and have to maintain the healthiest relationships possible across the board. It takes some learning, but words, facial expressions, etc. need to be watched and guarded by self in order to build those great relationships. And this is no different in any other career.

So if you are in customer service, I pray that you will take care to be attentive to yourself and how you are reacting to others. Just because someone else is not doing what you want, doesn’t mean you have to be rude in exchange. Be the respectable person so that nobody will have anything legitimate to complain about. And if you are the type of person who gets turned off by pushy people, do your best to understand their motives, but also know it’s ok and you are not alone. Seek to find another person for there are definitely less pushy people out there.

The Comfort of a Gray, Rainy Day

Yesterday morning, I jumped in my car like usual. I drove to the end of the driveway like usual, and turned down our street like usual. But something was slightly unusual about today, and that was the atmosphere around me.

I normally have the radio tuned into our local Christian station, but my husband had taken my car to the gym the night before without me. So instead, I turned on the ignition to the beginning of the song, “See You Again” by Wiz Khalifa. I normally don’t like his music, but with the impact this song had, especially at the end of the latest Fast and Furious. I really, really like this song. Mix that song, with gray skies, and light rain. Perfection. A certain mood attained. Just right for this moment.

When I was younger, my mother always drove when she was upset. In fact, we probably spent more time on the road than we ever did at home. Whether it was driving at the end of the school week to visit my grandparents, and then waiting until the morning of school to get up extra early and drive back in time to meet our bus, we were always on the road. It was a way of life.

My favourite was always being in the passenger seat while my mother was driving, when the skies were dark and there was a light rain with the radio on. To me, that speaks comfort. To me, that speaks perfection. To me, that speaks home. I may be a case of a kid who never really knew what home was. I may be a case of a person who has a distorted way of looking at things. But as an adult, I feel that in my confusion and unstable life, I have found the very things that can be stable, that can be comforting, no matter what season of life one may be in.

So call me crazy, or whatever you please. But I have security in the fact I have experienced so much in life. I’ve been through troubling places, I’ve lived and experienced so many different cultures and schools. I have been dragged through the fire multiple times, and yet I can tell you exactly how not to fall apart when others may possibly see no way out.

I’m not a person who has despised my childhood, but rather a person who is thankful for learning what is most important to survive whatever may come in an adult life. You can plan your life, you can plan your job, your spouse, your schooling, etc… But plans rarely work out the way they are supposed to. The one thing you can prepare is your reactions, your attitude, and your stability. If you have that, with God by your side, it won’t matter whether money is an obstacle or struggle. Because you’ve already learned how to deal with change before.

It pays to be happy with the little things in life, because it’s the little things that will keep you going. So learn now what makes you happy, learn now how to react to change. Find comfort in the things that are stable to you, even if it’s driving in a car on a gray, rainy day.

When I Realized My Grandfather Really Wasn’t Coming Back

Something happened today that really jarred my memory and brought me to write this post. I saw the following picture on Facebook and it got me thinking about my grandfather.

It took me right back to the moments where I can remember thinking about him and instantly started crying. Even now writing this, I can feel the water filling up in my eyes. I know many of you will say that you have/had an awesome grandfather to, but I’d like to take a minute to tell you about mine, and how special he truly was.

I guess it starts when my mother became pregnant with me. My parents were not married. I guess my grandfather liked my dad, but he was very upset about the whole situation and didn’t talk to my mother for days. However, being the man that he was, he still bought her a crib and everything she would need for me, even though he wasn’t talking to her. He was always that way, taking care of things even when he was upset.

Of course, as soon as I was born, he was completely smitten. My mother is a child of two, but lived very much a single child’s life. She never met her brother as he died on a surgery table a few months after he was born. That meant, I was the first and only grandchild.

My parents didn’t stay together very long. They did get married after I was born, but separated when I was about 4, officially divorcing when I was around 5. Where do you think we went back to? My grandparents. In fact, their home was very much “home base” my entire life.

My grandfather always spoiled me (and later my other siblings). I have pictures where my toys barely fit in the picture with me. My father told me that I would get tired of opening gifts because there were simply so many. I had this 6″+ man wrapped around my tiny finger. There’s no denying he loved me.

My grandfather was a used car salesman. In fact, it was my mother’s company that he worked for her since she dropped out of college to be home with me. The company was even named after my sister and I. But eventually he took over the company and changed its name since he did become the only one running the business.

I used to love visiting him at his office. My grandmother and I would get lunches for him, he would let me sit in his office chair, I would be called his “Number 1 Dudette”, and I loved the fact that everywhere we went, people always knew and respected my grandfather, and thus treated me as if I was a special person. I had never met anyone who didn’t know or like my grandfather.

If you could imagine the biggest realistic playground in the world, that would be my grandfather’s car lot. He gave me access to all the keys and vehicles in his lot. I can still remember the amount of fun we had pretending to drive the cars, and especially in exploring the only RV I remember him having. Only once did he ask me to backup a truck into a corner spot. My mother sat in the passenger seat with me, and I remember learning really quick to use my mirrors. I was so scared I would mess up his vehicles in this tight spot. But I did it! I still can’t believe he trusted me…

If I could compare him to anything, it would very much be the godfather. I’m not joking when I say that everyone seemed to know who he was. He was an amazing man when he was happy, but he was always a man you feared when he was unhappy. I don’t remember him every getting mad at me, but it was a general rule that when he came home, the remote control to the television had to be in the right spot for him to lay on the couch and watch what he wanted. He became upset if the remote went missing. There were just certain things you knew not to do.

Sometimes, my grandmother and him would fight. I’m sure there’s not a couple in the world who has not at least had one argument. Sometimes, or maybe more than sometimes, this meant he would stay at his office for the night. It was a conveniently built, small building that contained 3 rooms and a tiny hallway. One room was “the office”. The second room was of course a washroom. And the third room was his bedroom. It contained only a tv, a bed, and a mini fridge. It pretty much had everything he needed if he needed a night away. So it was a fairly normal occurrence for him not to come home sometimes.

The best thing about my grandfather was that he was always there for us. There was a time when we didn’t have the most money, and work was slow. My grandfather always provided what we needed, and then some. Most of you know that I have moved like 20 times with my family, not including on my own. The one person who was always there, regardless of where we were, was my grandfather. He never missed an opportunity to come and stay with us. (Of course I should say my grandmother always came with him as well, but I will dedicate a post to her another day.) He was honestly one of the biggest constants in my life.

When my family made the official decision to move from the east coast to the west coast, my grandparents offered to bring my sister and I out at the end of summer so that we could spend the extra time with our father. It was a fair bit of a long drive, but even then my grandfather trusted me with reading the map (before GPS systems). I almost think his belief in me helped me grow to the independent woman I am today. I have a lot to credit him for.

They stayed with us at our new place for a few days. Early in the morning, him and I would get up and drive to a hotel or another homey restaurant to eat. He was not a chain-restaurant type of person. Even back in the town he worked, he had one particular restaurant he preferred to eat at, and everybody knew his specials and what he enjoyed eating. He always preferred the homestyle cooking. In fact, he met my grandmother while she was waitressing at such a type of restaurant. My family and I have visited that restaurant a few times and imagined what it must have been like. They still have the juke boxes and the old stools. Sometimes it’s nice to preserve history rather than to embrace change.

We then took a trip to the “big city” so my grandparents could see it before they left. We had a lot of fun. At one point, we lost my grandfather in the big mall. I’ll never forget him driving around on those motorized scooters for people who can’t walk well. He had even gotten an orange smoothie and I guess spilled it all over the machine. If you knew my grandfather like I did, you would picture him using colourful language for the time he was mad, then acting like nothing ever happened.

I don’t remember how we ever found him, but I can tell you it was one of the hardest good-byes of my life.This wasn’t just moving a few hours away, this was a four day drive across the country. Of course they would come visit again, but the visits would never be as frequent as before. What I didn’t know was that my tears would get worse before they ever got better.

Literally two or three days after we returned to our new home, I got a call from my grandmother. It sounded like her for sure, but something was a little different. She asked to speak to my mom pretty much right away, so I gave my mom the phone and sat on the landing of the stairs. My mother took the phone into her room which was at the top of the stairs. The next words I heard told me pretty much everything I didn’t want to hear. She said, as she began crying, “Oh Mom!”.

My grandparents had been involved in a car accident on their journey home. An impatient driver went in their lane to pass a semi-truck and didn’t see my grandparents van coming at them. My grandmother was in the hospital, a little bruised but otherwise ok (she would later need nose surgery to correct the alignment). My grandparents’ friend who was helping them drive home had so many broken bones, including ribs and shoulder, and would also need counselling for what happened (he was driving at the time – completely not his fault). But my grandfather didn’t make it.The speed they were traveling on the highway, and the impact of a completely head-on hit left the vehicle in shambles and took my grandfather with it.

Immediately, we packed and drove back to the city. I thankfully had a great aunt and uncle who lived just outside the limits and welcomingly invited us in until we could all make arrangements to fly home. My mother was able to fly right away to be with my grandmother, but there were 4 more of us to fly, and we had to wait for a cheaper ticket to afford it.

It was so strange when I got home. Being in my grandparents house seemed so normal. I mean, I was only at my “new home” for less than a week. I had no attachments to it and didn’t even have to act like it was supposed to be my new home. I had come home and it felt like life should be normal again.

I know I cried a few times, but I remember just having the attitude and thoughts of “My grandfather is just at his office, staying the night like he usually does. Sometime he’ll come home.”

I still remember it as clear as yesterday: My mother and I were sitting in the living room, on separate couches, not talking much as we didn’t for a while, and her saying the exact same thing that I felt – that Grampy was just at his office and sometime he would come home. And it hit us right then that we had to realize it was wasn’t true, that Grampy really wasn’t coming back. I broke down (just like I am again now) because he was always there, for everything! How could he not come back this time! How could the one stable thing in my life not come back! It was so hard to accept.

Sitting in his house, seeing all of his old stuff, going to his office, it was all so hard to do when you realize the person who has always been there for you, the person who has loved you your whole life was suddenly gone. My nickname would never be used again, except when telling stories of him. My promise from him of giving me my first car would never come true. My life was drastically left with an empty hole that I’m not sure was ever filled again. Nobody could take his place, and I could never have been prepared for that instant change in time.

Life is not fair, and it never will be. The devil is waiting for any opportunity to attack and make a mess of things. He knows which strings to pull and he knows how to make things hurt you more than anyone else. He knows he can damage us and take away everything that means the world to us, which is why it’s so important to turn to God when you’re hurting, to let Him hold you and tell you that everything is going to be ok, because one day, it will. One day, when Jesus returns and we are taken to Heaven with Him, there will not be anymore pain, there will not be anymore death, there will not be anymore tears. I don’t know what my grandfather’s relationship with Christ was like. I know he sort of had a falling out at one point, but he insisted my mom make sure she took us to church. So I only hope and pray that he had a good relationship with God, because it would be so nice to run into those loving arms I miss so dearly, the loving arms that were missing during both of my graduations and my wedding, the loving arms that were taken away from me way too soon.

I miss this man more than anything, and truly just thinking of how much I miss him brings me to tears almost instantly. Hold your loved ones close and make sure you let them know how important they are to you. You never know which instant will take them away.