"Welcome to Tarboro -- Your Electricity's Been Turned Off"

      

     When I returned from Paris last May, I was a little stunned to come into a warm house.  Not seeing the red digital light on the stove, I could only think:  “oh, shoot, I neglected to pay my utility bill before departing.”

     Before I could put down my purse, it was “off to the races,” and I immediately hopped in my car, and drove downtown to the Town Hall to check it out.

     There was a line of people waiting.  When it was my turn to be helped, I meekly explained that my electricity was off, that I had just gotten back from France the day before.  “Are you certain that I didn’t pay?  I could have sworn that I sent a check, before I left.”  The person at the counter turned to check her records.  “No, we didn’t receive anything.  And you’ve have problems before.  And you’ll need to pay a $300.00 deposit, due to your poor payment history.”  This was said within earshot of other people in line, whom, I suspected, were “guilty” of the same thing.  I looked sympathetically back at the line of people behind me.

     “But you don’t understand.  I was in FRANCE!”  This didn’t seem to register with her.  In fact, she seemed a little “hard-hearted.”  Couldn’t she have taken me aside and quietly explained the situation?  After being treated so wonderfully in France, I couldn’t believe that I was coming back to “my” sweet little town, to discover that my electricity had been turned off.  Just like that.

     Maybe she thought that if I could afford to go to Paris, I could certainly afford to pay my utilities bill.  So I explained, “It was a FREE trip.”  I hoped that would clear up any misunderstanding.  I wasn’t a “bon vivant” who could travel the world anytime I felt like it, just an ordinary woman with a simple life in a small town.

     “You have a poor history,” she said again.  There it was.  That word again.  Poor.  I took issue with that, thinking I’d always had air conditioning and heat, right?  I wasn’t sure how many times a person had to miss a utility payment in order to be considered having a “poor history.”  Just once, I decided.

     But hey, in Rocky Mount, they just add a missed payment to your next bill.  In Tarboro, however, they cut off your utilities, just like that.  In a heartbeat.

     Well, I sucked in my breath and went to the bank, withdrew the $300.00, and took it right back to the Town Hall.  There!  I’m in the clear!  Paid in full and then some!

     But the principle of the thing bothered me, so I wrote to Sam Noble.  My son and his daughter went to high school together.  I liked Sam.  I thought he was a good guy.  I emailed a summary of my situation, hoping he would be empathetic.  I couldn’t get that word out of my head, after being in France.  Couldn’t we negotiate on this?  It seemed a bit heartless to just cut off people’s electricity.  What if they were on oxygen.  What then?  (I found out that if a person is on oxygen, their electricity doesn’t get turned off.  What a relief!)

     Well, Sam wrote me back.  A long email, outlining my “poor” payment history.  In fact, he used the word “poor” three times.  To say the least, I felt worse after hearing back from Sam.  Having lived in Tarboro for 15 years, I hardly felt as if I had a “poor” history.  I wanted to fire a letter back to him.  Sam, how could you be so insensitive?  What kind of legacy do you want to leave here?  Where is the empathy?  The understanding?  I decided to go and see him, rather than firing back a letter.

     The visit was pleasant.  We chatted.  He was nice.  Engaging.  Understanding.  I mentioned my perception that his email to me was harsh.  And his explanation was perfectly acceptable.  It was just business, plain and simple.  The policy on utilities payments had been in place for decades.  It would probably never change.  One thing’s for certain, I have not been late since then on my utilities payment.  But, I still believe that people in public service should be more careful in their words, more discreet.  Because you know what?  It doesn’t cost anything to be nice, and it doesn’t take that long either.

     Just before Christmas, there was an article in the Daily Southerner about how a number of people had had their electricity turned off.  And how a “good Samaritan” had come forward to pay the bills of all these residents.  The story warmed my heart.

     Since then, I’ve found lots of empathy here.  In car repair shops, at church, at work, in class, on the walking trail I use.  Empathy is here.  You just have to look for it.

    

What We Need to Learn From the French

    

     Last year, I had the amazing good fortune to win an all expense paid trip to Paris.  I never really had Paris on my radar before, in spite of having visited other large European cities:  London, Oslo, Amsterdam, Brussels.

     My “first day” impressions centered  mostly around how clean Paris seemed to be for such a large city.  The air smelled fresh, even at the airport -- I didn’t notice any buses and transport vans spewing black smoke.  I wondered if this might be due to the use of biofuels.  I also had the equivalent of a “private tour” of Paris on the way to the hotel, thanks to a generous and good-natured Paris Shuttle driver, Kareem.  He delighted in pointing out every landmark on the way to the hotel:  the Ritz Hotel, the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, the Opera House, the Invalides Musuem, and Napoleon’s statue.  I told him that I was jealous of him, for living in such a beautiful city.   He laughed, pleased at how happy I was to view the majesty of his native city.

     There were other wonderful memories – a sumptuous breakfast served every morning, side trips to Normandy and Giverney, daily walks to the Luxembourg Gardens, (only a 10 minute walk from my hotel), magnificent apartment houses with flowers cascading down wrought iron balconies, bakeries, boutiques, and flower shops, and the ever-constant flow of traffic and pedestrians.

     One would think that Paris, being one of the world’s largest cities, would be one of the most impatient, filled with rude shop keepers anxious to cash in on American dollars, and natives too preoccupied to be concerned about foreigners’ impressions of them.

     However, nothing could be further from the truth.  There is a reason Paris is the number one tourist destination in the world – it’s the hospitality that is shown to visitors.  Back in the 1970’s and early 80’s, Paris did have a bit of a rep for being rude.  However, President Mitterand changed all that with a massive campaign to make Paris more “Tourist Friendly.”  

     There is one other quality that stood out in my experience, and that was the empathy and nice manners of the French.  For example, I noticed a group of French business colleagues in the dining area of my hotel.  Turned out they worked for the same insurance agency in Brittany.  Meeting for breakfast, the women joining the group greeted each other with a kiss on each cheek, and the men shook hands.  Mind you, they probably see each other every day at work, but the fact that they took the time to greet each other this way was very pleasing to see.  I imagined that a group of American colleagues would offer cheery “good mornings”, “hi ya’s” and high five’s, and not this more formal type of greeting. 

     I noticed the same thing at the Paris airport.  Passing co-workers would take a few seconds to acknowledge one another with handshakes.  How very nice!   

     But even more impressive than the nice manners, was the quality of empathy that I experienced directly.  When I had trouble negotiating some steps at one of the D-Day sights in Normandy, there appeared a kind gentleman who noticed my hesitation.  He graciously offered his arm, while his understanding wife waited patiently for a moment. 

    Then there was the kind woman who helped me in a boutique as I struggled to get out the right change.  She smiled, understandingly, then said, “it’s difficult, no?”  She sensed my appreciation of her kindness, remarking, “that’s how we are – it’s the French compassion.”

     I thought about these experiences the other morning when I was at a Starbucks enjoying a coffee.  A group of the employees started complaining about how the cleaning crew had failed to properly tidy up the night before.  Their comments were audible to the 3 or 4 other customers trying to enjoy their food.  I finally got up and discreetly said something to the person I thought was the manager, but it didn’t do any good.  Oh well, I could just as well enjoy my coffee on the trip back to Tarboro.

     And then I thought about my Paris trip, and what we can learn from the French, just simple good manners, and empathy. 

     I hope to go back to Paris some day, but I probably won’t be visiting that Starbucks any time soon.