Central Square Walgreens is a city drugstore. As you walk up the stairs coming off the outbound redline you will see it directly to your right. It’s always busy, ever crowded and not particularly clean. The staff are as iconic as the customers with diverse cultures, ages, clothing and personalities the norm.
It is the great equalizer. At Walgreens in Central Square people do not care if you’re a famous Harvard or MIT professor or a homeless person. You could be a doctor that discovered a treatment for a rare cancer or a stay-at-home mom; a barista or a post doc; a nurse or a tatoo artist; no one cares. You are served the same, wait in the same line, and try and get your pictures printed from the same computer. This is one of the reasons I love the city.
While living in the suburbs it mattered to people that our banged up Toyota Camry sat next to their Lexus. It mattered that Aeropostale and Banana Republic were not in our closets and it mattered that we didn’t care. At Walgreens an equalization takes place – a leveling of the playing field. People may try to assume airs and superiority but these are forced to the surface and squashed as quickly as they are assumed.
It was at Walgreens that I made the acquaintance of a Jordanian woman who knew no English. She walked in the store passionately requesting information in Arabic. Blank faces looked her way, and then everyone went back to doing what they had been doing. So the voice got louder. And the staff? They had no time for this woman who was speaking rapid-fire Arabic. Walgreens may be the great equalizer – but only if you know English.
At this point, I, standing at least three aisles away from her and knowing I could understand at least the basics of what she was saying, moved in a bit closer. It was one of those times where in a flash I had to weigh my decision to get involved against the urgency with which I had originally entered the store – in other words, I didn’t want any obstacles in my way between checkout and walking home. And the woman (dare I say it?) was an obstacle. But obstacles that are human have this way of getting into your brain and reminding you that getting involved is sometimes a mandate, not a suggestion.
Her name was Laila and she was frantically asking where the mosque was. Good. I knew and could tell her. But there was more. She wanted a cart to carry her groceries on city streets. She was older and carrying bags was too much for her. In the space of a few minutes I had heard about her daughter and no-good son-in-law; her grandchildren; and the mosque down the street – it’s amazing what you can learn about another person in a short interaction.
We found the cart in the front aisle but when I told her the price she looked dismayed. She took out a ten-dollar bill, held it out to me and began bargaining with me on the price. My Arabic is basic at best and she was persuasive. She kept pushing the ten-dollar bill into my hands, explaining that this was all she had. But there was a problem – I hadn’t set the price, Walgreen’s had. And if we know one thing in America – we don’t bargain. While an art form in some countries, it is simply not done in American retail. I laughed and told her that this would not happen, she would have to pay full price. So she argued some more. I responded that if she was in Jordan, this would work, but in America she would have to pay full price. And she argued more. I had met my match.
It was about this point that it dawned on me that I would be the one paying for the cart; her bargaining had worked, thought not in the way either of us intended. So we moved up toward the check out.
This is where something interesting happened: the staff previously uninterested and annoyed began treating the woman with kindness and respect. I watched in amazement. As I pulled out my debit card to pay for the cart, the staff were no longer annoyed or dismissive, but engaged and attentive. Through one interaction a domino effect began and she was suddenly worth while. She had been humanized, deemed worthy of having someone get involved, someone pay, and in the humanization the attitudes of all observing her changed.
It was a strong lesson to me in the power of actions. Very rarely do I feel like my actions to either get involved, or not get involved, matter. But to the person who needs us, it makes all the difference in the world.
We hugged goodbye, Laila and me, and she walked off with her cart to the mosque. I have never seen her again and my guess is she may not even remember me, but I am reminded of the lesson every time I go to Walgreens.
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Marilyn R. Gardner 
Your story reminds me of when an obstacle stopped Jesus while he was on his way to heal Jairus’ daughter. A woman touched his robe, and he stopped to find her. During their conversation, the little girl died. But it was all for a purpose, and now we know of his amazing power, not only to heal and forgive, but to give a little girl new life.
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Fantastic story, skillfully told. Have I told you what a good writer you are? :) Looking forward to seeing the book manuscript.
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Thank you! And thanks for the nudge to get that manuscript going…..
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I bet she was surprised (and so thankful) that you knew Arabic! No doubt she shared the story with her family – I would love to read her blog post on it :)
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Haha – Love this! I always wondered what happened to the no-good son-in-law. The way Central Square is, who knows when I may run into her. So fun to see you the other day!
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Walgreens is a hoot! I go in one in almost every city I visit. It is a cross section of daily lives.
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Great idea Trinity! I think you’re absolutely right. What better way to get the snapshot of a city where you are a guest. I love getting in grocery stores – it’s a time when you find out that things like pineapple pudding are in the foreign food sections. Walgreens would be even better.
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Dear dear Marilyn, Have I told you lately how special you are to me, how much I love having a daughter just like you? How much I love you for who you are and the wonderful, crazy, good things you do? Thanks for writing this. You’ve made my day.
And for any readers out there who have a daughter who is in that hard to understand and even harder to get along with age, hang in there, pray a lot and keep on loving her. Marilyn and I went through some pretty rough patches. We came through it to become really good friends.
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How precious a response. I agree, this is a wonderful thing and any mom would be more than proud, yes, full of love. And I am reading your book and am at the spot where you now have 2 little boys!
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Love this Lou Anne! Let me know when I’m born and we’ll have a party!
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Wow was all she could say! Thank you! And yes – we are such a picture of grace eh?!
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What a wonderful story with a great lesson.
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Thanks Janet – it was so fascinating to both be a part of it and watch it unfold at the same time. As we turned to leave the check out guy said “That sounds like an interesting language….I’d like to learn that!” Wow.
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Love, love this story!!
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Wish you had been with me Lois!
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wow, that story just made me laugh – I love it! Like the other person said, it’s refreshing. I like it even more because I had almost the same situation last week – and I ended up making a new friend. She’s from Iraq, and speaks Arabic, and the staff at the college was at a loss as to how to help her. Through that friendship, she’s asked me to help her with her English, and she in turn wants to help me with my Arabic! I’m thrilled. Love how those special things happen when we step out of our “I’m busy I don’t have time” mentality! Thanks so much, Marilyn, for the wonderful story!
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Exactly Jessica. I have learned a huge amount of this from my husband, who, by his own admission, will talk to a wall! But he ends up meeting the most interesting people and having some of the best interactions, conversations and future events because of this. I tend to go into introvert mode, even though I’m not, instead of moving out of my comfort zone. This new friendship of yours sounds great! What a great way to learn Arabic beyond the classroom.
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Very refreshing!
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I love your reaction – the whole incident was like that for me. I think the unexpected fun of having someone bargain with me when I wasn’t selling anything, the sense that I was back in the Middle East – the whole bit! Thank you for reading!
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