Author's note: I have since moved from Bedford, Texas and this particular Albertson's store has undergone a much needed renovation. The manager has moved on and the Pakistani Asst. Manager is now the store's manager.
Yet another author's note: I wrote this piece for my wife who is in customer service. She uses it in training. She says it makes people cry. I'm sorry about that.
Also: See the author's note at the end.
Near my home in Bedford is an Albertson’s grocery store. There are two Wal-Mart Supercenters fairly close by and a Kroger that’s actually closer to my house. But I like this Albertson’s and I’ve become accustomed to it. After months of going to this store, I now know where to find Ovaltine and Nutella (those products are relatively hard to find). If I want plastic wrap, it’s in the back right corner. The produce is far from spectacular, but I know where to find purple onions and yellow onions.
When Albertson’s runs its annual Monopoly promotion, we come home with those little packets of stickers to see if we’ve won anything. We have cookware that we earned with reward stamps. I’ve actually called the toll-free customer survey line, hoping to get the $100 gift card.
But there’s an entirely different reason why I like this particular grocery store. And it has little to do with product placement or incentives. It’s because of the manager of the store.
I’ve spoken with him a couple of times and he’s a “good ol’ boy”. He wears the same light blue company shirt and dark blue tie everyday and has a rhyming phrase for everything. He has two assistant managers, one guy who has an overly efficient, task-oriented walk and an attractive young woman of Pakistani descent who listens to every complaint as if it were of the most serious type.
But the store’s manager has done something really quite beautiful. And it’s the main reason I keep coming back. It’s the people that he has hired.
There’s the first generation African woman who runs a check-out. She is often flanked by the Indian woman with the enormous smile. My groceries are often bagged by a young man who has a learning disability or by an older gentleman who always, always makes my daughters smile. My prayer is that the Abuela who runs the bakery could be my grandmother. In fact, I think she is everyone’s ideal of a grandmother.
The deli is run by a very short Hispanic woman who stands on strategically placed footstools so that you can see her. She also stocks part of the refrigerated foods aisle, which means that she stands on the cooler’s ledge to reach the packaging on the top.
The pharmacy has a tall, stately Caucasian man who looks like he could find exactly the right dosage blindfolded and an equally stately African-American woman that knows that you could actually be cured with her chicken broth.
Then, there is Customer Service manager. I do not know of his condition, but he is a young Caucasian man, perhaps in his 30s who is unable to stand up straight and walks with a profound gate. And yet he knows how to fix the change counting machine and can help you pay your utility bills.
This grocery store’s manager hires what many people would have considered employment rejects. The developmentally disabled, the elderly, the first generation foreigner, the physically disabled and minorities. If you want to work, you can earn a paycheck here. I’ve been to other Albertson’s and they don’t have the same employee diversity. This is the manager’s doing.
I want to go to a church like this. A place where everyone’s gifts are celebrated far beyond what their limitations might be. The people who work there want to work there. It’s safe, they say. It’s home, they’ve told me.
Yet still another author's note: Since I wrote this, my youngest child now has a job there. They identify as non-binary, so when they requested a name tag with their chosen name (as opposed to the legal name she had to put on her paperwork), it wasn't even an issue. It's still church.
You guessed it... another author's note: I have found that "church". My wife and I joined Cathedral of Hope in Dallas. It's every bit of celebratory, safe, and home that I could have asked for.
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