I wish there was a word for this. You know how "bittersweet" captures that perfect mix of sour and sweet? I feel that way, but with emotions-can't tell if I am happy or can't tell if I'm disappointed. So, a little bit of both. I'm happointed.
This morning I discouragingly woke up to the sound of an 8 am alarm which I snoozed for 32 minutes and arrived at my 9 am class wearing my pajamas. What was I wearing? I proudly represented my Al Talib T shirt, but--somehow--not consciously. I wore it as I wore any other pair of pajamas, like they were abandoned canvasses. Marks of makeup, remnants of food, and other histories added to the character-funk of my PJs. But this was a brand new white T shirt that had the term "Al Talib" written in Arabic, translated in English, and then a tagline stating "the muslim newsmagazine at UCLA." So I walked into my discussion class with not an entirely conscious state of mind; rather, I was not very well aware of my actions.
I hungrily went to grab a smoothie after class ended. At the order counter, I usually state that I would like the "mango smoothie with no sherbert, please." But sometimes I just feel bad for the order takers and I just ask for a regular smoothie, and then I later clarify it with the smoothie artists that I ONLY want mangos and soymilk. In the past, I'd say, ten times, I have not encountered a problem with it. Except once. A lady denied me once! She flat out rejected my order, shaking her head left and right, with this look on her face that she wouldn't "cater to anyone's 'special' needs." That look deeply irritated me. She kept insisting that I change my order, so that I may get a different smoothie that already has soymilk in it. "Get the orange smoothie," she said. I was mad, and a volcano was brewing inside of me.
As always, its because I kept the frustration to myself. I kept thinking, does this lady have no regard for the benefit of the doubt? Granted, not every situation is worthy of doubt, but did she even entertain the fact?
No.
So I responded to her. I said, "I can't get the orange smoothie because my stomach cannot handle acid."
Did she know, that at the tender age of 14 years old, I was diagnosed with GERD (Gastro Esophageal Reflux Disease)? Did she know that I occasionally regurgitate actual vomit? For no reason, other than I have too much acid? If I got an orange smoothie, it would not be the end of the world. But WHY, why, why...why did she have to make life that much harder for me? And for herself?!
I told her, I just want a smoothie with Mangoes and soymilk. That's it. And I had gotten it so, so many other times before, that I simply could not wrap my finger around why this lady seemed to have a personal vendetta against my order, or me for that matter.
Finally she agreed by saying that she would make it only this one time and that next time I better get the orange smoothie.
What a waste-my whole explanation about my stomach problems did not seem to deem a valid enough reason to get a "special order." Why not? When food items contain peanuts in them, people go out of their way to make sure there aren't peanuts. When some recipes have pork or lard remains, the chefs usually accomodate. And even out of simple good nature, why would you reject someone else's desires--ESPECIALLY in the work force, where professionalism is so highly dignified?
Nevertheless, today, I went in for a mango smoothie again. I observed that today, the smoothie artist was the same lady. I felt like I had already crossed a hurdle with her, so that I would not have to fight this battle again.
Alas, this time, it was war. I hate war. But I asked if she could simply put mangoes and soymilk. Nope. She would not. In fact, she refused to even do it--again. She kept pointing to the juice machine that there was no such thing. So I pointed to where the mangoes were, and said that I just wanted mangoes, and soymilk. But at this point, I was literally begging her.
Nothing worked. She insisted that she would call her boss. I became enraged only because I felt like she was disregarding any thoughtfulness, any morality, any kindness--all for the sake of her pride, so it seemed. It seemed she was too proud to serve my "special order" needs. I even reminded her, again, that I have stomach issues. I even insisted that I had gotten this very same order plenty of times before. But after she kept nodding her head left and right, shutting her eyes in utter disagreement and condescending disapproval, I decided to take matters into my own hands.
"Fine, I will just ask the manager myself."
I proceeded to the manager. He looked at me as if to observe a statue. Without my conscious realization, I had noticed that he read my shirt. He noticed the Arabic. He knew who I was.
I am Muslim.
I explained the whole ordeal about mangoes and soymilk, my stomach, and that the lady simply refused although I had gotten it many times before. And he just walked with me, almost disregarding anything I had said to him as if he understood the more important things in life, and simply stated, "I will make it for you myself."
I was instantly humbled.
He went around to the back of the smoothie counter, made it in front of my eyes, and proceeded to converse with me.
"So, you are Muslim...."
He was Muslim, too. From Ethiopia. Held some Ramadan dinners at the campus dining hall. We talked for a minute or two and I was happy. After such a long struggle. I was formerly so disappointed in mankind and its lack of empathy, but everything reversed in such few moments. As he personally handed me the smoothie, he told me that the lady was simply following orders--they are not allowed to deviate from the original smoothie recipes. But he said, of course, accomodations can be made for dietary reasons. He mentioned that by having only mangoes and soymilk, the smoothie doesn't churn as well, so that was another reason why she did not want to make it (but is that a valid reason, or is it laziness, or is it just pride--that I will not make you a smoothie because that requires more effort than you are worth?) He assertively, but gently, reminded me that the lady was only adhering to the rules and she was not trying to be mean to me. Oh, if only he knew.
In the end, I have some things to say: (a) I had never realized the power of displaying identity so forwardly. Had I not worn my Al Talib shirt, which clearly proclaims my Muslim pride, would I have gotten different treatment? Did I get different treatment because of it? and (b) is wearing a shirt that screams "I am Muslim" have any weight in terms of replacing it with a headscarf? I.e. If I wore a shirt for the rest of my life stating "I am Muslim," how different would it be than wearing a scarf on my head? and (c)If this difference exists, then why are people so afraid to approach those with headscarves, if t shirts can be equally as threatening or equally as inviting?
and (d) How damn important is it to follow the rules? The lady seemed to be fine in bending the rules the first time. She completely disregarded my dietary explanations the first AND the second time. What made her do it the first time? What was the big deal in doing it again? I mean, it's just a smoothie, and if she doesn't follow the rules, she is not gaining or losing anything--no managers were supervising her.
and lastly (e) I am ashamed. After the humbling kindness of the manager, I felt like my Muslim identity had been compromised due to my strong thoughts against the lady. I felt like I was wearing the t shirt--I was walking the walk, but not talking the talk. And usually, it's the other way around.
She put me in check.
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