She Refused to Serve Me

I'm not really sure if this is a post about political divisions, trauma, or taking a beat before reacting. Maybe it's a post about the stories we tell ourselves. It's long, so buckle up.

On Wednesday, I was with a Democratic candidate I am helping. Out on the campaign trail, we took a quick stop at a local general store, maybe 10 miles from my house. One of those dusty places in this part of New York with mostly what you find in gas station mini marts plus a few gems, like black cherry soda made with real cane sugar. Behind the counter was a woman, probably in her 50's (I thought the owner) and a woman I later found out was 18. My companion mentioned to the guy next to her at that she loved their Hershey's strawberry ice cream and also that she was running for office. A brief, mostly friendly political conversation ensued and he went out the door and then popped his head back in. "Do you like Trump?" he asked. "Sorry, no," my friend said. "But we can still be friends." I didn't say anything. The older woman behind the counter then turned to me as she was ringing out my companion. "Do you like Trump?" she asked. "I don't," I told her. "Why not?" now she was glaring at me. "I don't think he's a good person." "But we need him," she said. "We can't have this..." I interrupted her because I didn't want to hear it. "I like Joe Biden," I said smiling, trying to keep my voice friendly. Now she was incredulous with me. "How could you? What could you possible like about him?" "For one thing, he turned the economy..." and before I could finish, she yelled "I cannot stand here and listen to this," storming off from behind the counter, refusing to check me out. The 18 year old, eyes as big as saucers at this point, rung me up. I thought about not buying anything because I thought she was the owner, but I didn't want to stoop to her level and I wanted to model some kind of decency for the young woman.

I posted about the experience on Facebook but didn't want to name the store because doxxing is not my style, but I was very shaken by it. All the flack aimed at liberals about not being accepting or open enough toward Trump supporters - in my experience here, it is quite the opposite. I had a business for years in which I served all kinds of people, including people I strongly disagreed with politically. I am friendly with people I disagree with politically and care about them and their families. I don't shy away from sharing my opinion if asked, or even correcting something they say that I think is factually wrong. I try to do it with kindness and the benefit of the doubt. I will admit I failed at this once when someone showed up with a Confederate flag bumper sticker shortly after the Charleston Church Massacre, but even that guy, we quickly found common ground. He took off the sticker after realizing the association with white supremacy, and I always gave him free coffee when I saw him.

As I thought about it more, I realized I was partly shaken because as a Jewish person whose family in Poland were treated much like this - and eventually murdered - for their ethnicity, it sent me very much down a spiral. In the 12 years we've lived here, we've had the air taken out of our tires - we think because of our yard signs - and I've seen bullet holes in Democratic candidates' signs within 1/4 mile of where I live. We had a rock through our window and still aren't sure if it was an accident or not. But this was the first time I told my husband that we need to move because I don't feel safe here anymore. The idea that someone standing in front of me could treat me like I was gum on her shoe because I have a different opinion than her, that terrifies me. I wasn't sure whether or not I should confront her but in the end I decided that I needed her to know the pain that interaction caused and give her a chance to explain. So on Friday I stopped by the store.

There were two different women behind the counter. A mother and daughter and the actual owners of the store. I asked to talk to one of them privately and told the daughter what happened. I got pretty emotional. She could not have been kinder or more apologetic. She hugged me when I left and assured me she would confront her employee and that how she treated me was not okay.

Here's the thing: that woman who refused to serve me had a story about me. Maybe it's my lack of upstate accent. Maybe it's that I look Jewish. Maybe it's that I was talking to my friend about French butter and I seemed too city-ish. But she told herself a story about me. And I told myself a story about her, too. That she was the owner, that she singled me out for my otherness, that she had power over me, that I would be unsafe if I ever went into that store again.

I am glad I didn't name the store publicly. The people I did tell, I made sure to go back and correct that she was not the owner and that the actual owner was lovely and kind. Mostly, I'm glad that I decided to go back in there. It shifted me back to the more optimistic story - that most people around here are kind, even if we don't agree on everything.