I wonder if there’s a medication and also a dose high enough that could help me have felt less affected by the CVS cashier. He wasn’t just ringing me up; he was theatrically overperforming the role of one who works a cash register—projecting his voice as if addressing an auditorium, while tossing a ball high in the air from one hand to the other. As sensory overload set in, I felt trapped. He stretched our interaction longer than needed, demanding my attention while chattering in the brightly lit, warm, and humid store. I teetered on the edge of desperation, longing to pay and leave—to unhook from him.
I recognize that managing my nervous system is my responsibility. What if we all collectively focused on or even considered kindness as a way of being in the world? Kindness doesn’t require an audience—unlike friendliness, which often thrives on performance. The cashier was indeed friendly. I chose kindness by exercising restraint and not pointing out how his ball tossing and repeated errors due to distraction from his own behavior were unprofessional.
Call me uptight and sensitive, but—of the two of us, I. was. the. more. kind. one.—within that exchange of an unwanted and protracted transaction, which I experienced as more of an extraction. If you’re currently experiencing judgmental thoughts about my sensitivity, please consider this: you’re not kind, though I imagine quite friendly. It may be useful to know that the opposite of sensitivity is not strength, but INSENSITIVITY.
