Just Call Me Mama Bev

"God can use you anywhere." That's what my good friend Cynthia keeps reminding me since I returned to the workforce last year. Sometimes I do believe she's right. But then there are other times when I question if God is actually using me there to bless others or trying to make me see the error of my past ways.

On the job, some of the young people call me "Mama Bev." Obviously they recognize that I am older and yes, I wear being a "boomer" "old school" proudly on my chest. At the same time, however, I am nurturing as I listen to them share their stories. In the year since I've been working, I have adopted dozens of new children---young people not much older than my own daughter---who have felt comfortable coming to me to share their joys, sorrows and drama. And trust me, they all have plenty of DRAMA!

I have seen the face of domestic violence in a young co-worker's eyes and have prayed with and for her. I've kept secrets of infidelity and even blushed at some of the stuff these young people tell me. I acknowledge their pain and struggles but also give them a "you need to get back up after you fall down" speech.

This week I had a young lady confide in me that she was pregnant. Now the mothering part of me thought she was about a month ago and I asked her point black but she denied it. I asked her if she and her boyfriend were happy about it. She told me they weren't ready for a baby financially and she didn't know what to do. And then she popped the question: "Miss Bev, will you take my baby and raise it as your own? I know you would be a great mom because you are so nurturing." WHAT?! Now you know I didn't hear that coming! Initially I thought she was joking until I saw the tears swell up in her eyes.

All kinds of random thoughts immediately went through my head.

Why ask me?
I'm almost 60 years old!
Why not ask her own mother?
What would Nate think?
I love the way newborn babies smell


I told her I had finished raising my child but I would do what I could to support her.

Sometimes being Mama Bev is a tough job.

My Customer Service Experience at Jared

My husband and I have been customers of Jared Jewelers for more than 10 years and during that time we've spent close to $20,000. Now that may not be a lot in comparison to others but, nonetheless, our hard earned dollars have gone there.

Today I went to Jared to find a birthday gift for my daughter. I walked into the store. No one greeted me. Then I walked over to the jewelry repair center. I figured since I was in the store I might as well have my platinum engagement and wedding rings cleaned. An employee walked over but said nothing. I finally spoke up and said, "I know you see me standing here." She said she did but she was assisting another customer. My response to that was, "You may be helping another customer but that shouldn't stop you from greeting me." She immediately went to find someone to assist me.

A woman, identified as Amy, came over. She had just finished wiping her nose. I wasn't about to shake her hand and I didn't want to give her my rings to be cleaned. I told her what I wanted. She said she would help me. She asked me was it time for my rings to be inspected. I told her I wasn't sure. I expected her to ask for my name and go look it up in their records. She did not. As a courtesy service, Jared does an annual inspection of your jewelry to make sure the diamond is set correctly, among other things. That courtesy was not extended to me. STRIKE ONE.

I gave Amy my rings reluctantly. I thought she would give them to someone else to be cleaned while she assisted me. Instead she left and came back in less than a minute claiming she had cleaned them personally. There were definitely NOT cleaned because her hands were not clean. STRIKE TWO.

After paying for my daughter's gift, I asked to speak to the manager. Mark Swink came over. I told him I thought my good customer service experience was lacking at Jared and he should know about it. After listening to me for about three minutes, he thanked me and shook my hand but never apologized for my bad experience. I expected him to at least acknowledge my feelings. STRIKE THREE.

Now at this point of the story, it would be easy to throw out the race card and say I didn't get good customer service because I was black in a store surrounded by a sea of white customers. I don't know for sure if that was the case but I am inclined to believe that. Or perhaps it was because I left with one small bag and spent less than $200. But whatever the case, Jared has now joined Kroger on my BAD CUSTOMER SERVICE list.

So what do you think? Do whites get better customer service than blacks or are there other factors that could come into play?

Nelson Mandela Inspired the Baby Boomer Generation

When Nelson Mandela was imprisoned in 1978 I was a junior at Ohio University. As a young,politically conscious activist, I joined many college students across the country in demanding that our universities divest from South Africa. We wanted our institutions to cease investing in companies that traded or had operations in South Africa. We were outraged at what was going on in South Africa with apartheid. The way blacks were being treated there was reminiscent of the way our own parents and grandparents had been treated here under the so-called "Jim Crow" laws.

Protests were held at many universities. As a result of these organized "divestment campaigns", the boards of trustees of several universities voted to divest completely from South Africa and companies with major South African interests. Hampshire College was the first in the nation to divest from apartheid South Africa. They were joined by the University of Massachusetts, Tufts University, Smith College, the University of Wisconsin, Ohio University, Amherst College and Antioch College. But the straw that broke the camel's back, so to speak, was when the University of California authorized the withdrawal of three billion dollars worth of investments from the apartheid state. Nelson Mandela stated his belief that the University of California's massive divestment was particularly significant in abolishing white-minority rule in South Africa.

Today as I reflect on the life of Nelson Mandela, I am reminded that one person can truly make a difference and inspire an entire generation.

My Girlfriend Turned 65 This Year

I don't know what's more surprising:

1) I have a 65-year-old girlfriend
2) I'm hanging out with the 60 and over crowd

When my friend announced her upcoming birthday, she made it a point to let me know she was going to become medicare eligible. She wore it as a badge of honor. And why shouldn't she? She has lived long enough to earn her medicare stripes. She paid for years as a hard-working employee and now it's time to collect what is rightfully hers.

But the cool thing is she doesn't look a day over 50 and, despite being diabetic, she takes good care of herself by getting plenty of exercise and eating right. Yes, she is among the first wave of baby boomers who turned 65 in 2013. She's gone from "Say it loud, I'm black and I'm proud" to "Say it louder, I'm 65 and I'm prouder!"

It's funny how times change........

Ten years ago, I would not have been in the company of anyone in their 60's unless we were together at church, but it seems as though the older I get, the older my girlfriends have gotten as well.

In my 40's I always felt like the woman who had as much in common with the 30-somethings as I did with my own peer group. Now that I'm on the other side of 55, I don't find the conversations with 30-year-olds to be as stimulating or even worthy of a "girlfriend moment." Now don't get me wrong, there is much to learn from young people when it comes to understanding the new ways of doing business but when it comes to talking about hot flashes, grandchildren, husbands and the good old days, they don't share my journey. They don't KNOW my journey because they haven't arrived there yet.

Of course, there is so much they can learn from me and my older girlfriends but I suspect that they're not really interested in talking about personal summers and their idea of the good old days probably only dates back to the 1980s. But that's okay because the one thing we have gained is plenty of wisdom and experience. That's something that only comes with AGING.

Happy Birthday Paulette!

So how many friends do YOU have over the age of 60?

I almost fell in love with Kroger

I heard on the radio that Kroger was having a sale on grapes so I decided to go there to take advantage of the sale.

When I walked into the entryway, much to my surprise, there were carolers singing Christmas songs and employees passing out goodie bags along with the Kroger specials of the day. So far, so good.

Then as I walked into the produce section, I found my grapes--and plenty of them---red, black and green---on sale as advertised. And what's even better is I got to pick and choose which ones I wanted and put them all in the same bag. Shortly afterwards, I asked a produce employee where the chard was and instead of pointing me in the direction, he actually guided me to the location and explained the different varieties. Now, I'm impressed!

But then a not-so-funny thing happened at the deli. This particular employee (and fellow boomer) seemed less than enthusiastic about assisting me. No smile and he mumbled his words. STRIKE ONE.

As I moseyed on to the wine section, a smiling face (a millennial) greeted me and asked if I wanted to sample a particular wine they had on sale. It wasn't quite noon yet but I thought, "What the heck!" He said he was giving me a double portion. I wondered if I had "wino" tatooed on my forehead. Nevertheless, I tasted it and was SOLD.

The wine had me feeling pretty good when I went to the checkout line. That was until I had a not so pleasant encounter with the cashier, whose name was Sharon. I greeted her first. She didn't speak back. She didn't even smile once. Perhaps she smelled the wine on my breath and thought I was just some drunk housewife hitting the bottle a little too early for her. Or maybe she was upset because she couldn't have any while on the clock. WHATEVER! STRIKE TWO. And what's even worse is she bagged my seafood with my fruit---which even I know is a no-no. STRIKE THREE.

At that point I felt the need to speak to a manager so I went to the customer service desk. Another (boomer) employee asked if she could help me in a tone that made me feel less than welcome. Once again--no smile. Then she asked me why I wanted to see a manager. I told her I had a complaint. I was sure she would soften up a bit and do her best to turn my negative perception around but she did nothing but stand there stone-faced until the manager, Mr. Hinckley, came to hear me out. He offered me a gift card for my feedback. I declined it because I wanted him to understand my complaint couldn't be bought off with a gift card. I wanted him to understand that good customer service is still the key to good business and that's why Harris Teeter remains the cream of the crop.

The bottom line is good customer service is the lifeblood of any business. You can offer promotions and reduce prices to bring in as many customers as you want, but it's also about the "experience" a customer has while in your business.

Great customer service is all about bringing customers back and about sending them away happy - happy enough to pass on positive feedback about your business along to others, who may then visit your store and, in turn, become repeat customers.

I almost fell in love with Kroger today but they just can't compete with my Harris Teeter---at least not yet anyway

Sometimes God Shows Up in the Most Unusual Places

Two weeks ago while walking along the Duke Wall on the east campus, I was convinced I saw the face of God. It came in the form of an unidentified woman. As I was walking in the opposite direction of her, our eyes met. I said "Good morning." She looked at me and said "God bless you." Those three words impacted my spirit in a way I can't really describe in this blog but those three words drove me to tears as I continued to exercise. At that moment, I believed God was speaking directly to my spirit and answering some of my questions and concerns about this leg of my journey.

As we passed each other a second time, I made it a point to thank her for her blessing and told her how much I needed to receive it. She then took a moment to remind me that God knew what I was going through and as long as I trusted in him and kept the faith, everything would be OK. From that moment on, I felt a burden had been lifted.

I saw that same woman again this morning at the Duke Wall. This time I learned her name was "Phyllis." From a distance we recognized each other and, upon approaching each other, we exchanged greetings and hugs. I told her how much she had blessed my life in that one small encounter. She reminded me to keep the faith. Ironically, the next song that played on my mp3 player was "Lovely Day" by Bill Withers.

Sometimes God shows up in the most unusual places but wherever He does, be prepared to receive Him or you will MISS your blessing.

I Was Called for Jury Duty

Four days after the jury reached a verdict in the Trayvon Martin case, it would be my turn to possibly hold all power in my hands in deciding the fate of an alleged criminal in my community. Notice I said "alleged" because the judicial system says we are to believe that everyone charged is innocent until proven guilty.

On the day I arrived for jury duty, I looked around and saw dozens of potential jurors waiting to learn their fate. Many were not happy to be there. They had conflicting schedules and felt jury duty was an interruption to their lives. I, on the other hand, welcomed the idea of being called to serve. I wanted the opportunity to lend my voice on behalf of the victim or the suspect---depending on which side seemed to have the strongest case.

I was angry about the outcome of the Trayvon Martin trial and even more angry when I got to hear juror #B37 explain what was going on during deliberations. Based on of the words that came from her own lips, the jury seemed to have no clue for what they were basing their final decision on. The Stand Your Ground Law didn't even apply in the case, yet they chose to use it in determining the NOT GUILTY VERDICT.

Subsequent articles have come out discussing how jurors were treated during the trial, which may very well have had a bearing on the final outcome.

Being on a jury was also my opportunity to get revenge. It would allow me to convict a white boy who had committed some heinous crime against a black person in our community. It would give me satisfaction knowing that "an eye for an eye" would balance the scales of justice. Oh, but wait a minute. It is rare to see a young white man go to trial for doing something criminally against a black male in my community. It did happen once as I recall when a Texas man shot and killed a Pennsylvania teen as the two crossed paths in Durham.

Young whites who commit crimes normally have parents who are able to work out deals with Prosecutors in order to get the case dismissed or lesser charges so they end up being nothing more than "petty crimes" that kids commit. These stories don't make headlines for the media.

After six hours of waiting the potential jurors were notified we would not be called to serve and dismissed. There was a loud cheer in the room. I, on the other hand, walked away extremely disappointed because I would not get the opportunity to serve. This would have been my way of releasing some of the angst I felt over the Zimmerman verdict. I really wanted to understand how the judicial process works from a juror's mind so that, maybe in the end, I could really make sense of how those Sanford, FL jurors thought in reaching their NOT GUILTY verdict.

If there's one consolation, I did get paid for serving. $12.