Getting a Grip
Raymond Abbott
“Ray, can you bring me some Poligrip?” says the message on my voice mail. “My teeth are falling out.”
I know Barbara means just her uppers, because she has no bottom teeth.
“I don’t get my check until Tuesday,” she adds. It’s now Friday afternoon.
I smile, thinking, Where does she think I might get Poligrip? Does she think I have a supply in my desk drawer?
The support staff, who have a lot of items, won’t have Poligrip. If I asked them for it, however, they too would smile.
Smile is the word you want to remember in this account, because Barbara makes me smile–and I especially value those who can do so these days.