Michelle's Musings - Revelation at the Rental Car Counter
It was a long day by the time I got to the rental car office in Texas. For everyone concerned. I had just finished giving my last presentation at a conference, hastily packing up my computer and arriving at the airport. Unfortunately, I had mistakenly reserved my rental car at a different location, which meant that I then loaded my luggage into a cab for a very expensive ride across Houston.
But, it hadn’t been easy there, either. Torrential rains had flooded Houston the day before, damaging about 40% of the cars in some areas. In other words, the office had been filled with demands for rental cars by lots of angry, frustrated people who just needed to get to work.
I walked into the office, frustrated. There was another person sitting in a chair by the door. The man at the counter had just learned that his office account had not taken care of the bill. He stepped away, seemingly as satisfied as he could be, under the circumstances. I should have taken it as a sign.
The woman behind the counter looked at me. “How can I help you?”
I gestured to the man sitting by the door. “I think he was here before me.”
“I’ve already helped him. I can take care of everyone in my office.” At first I thought she was snapping at me. Chastised, I turned to my reservation. We went through all the agreements, all the upcharges: would I like to prepay for a full tank of gas, she asked, indicating that the man sitting by the door had just $15 to fill his tank. No, I said. Would I like additional insurance? No, I said, saying my car was pretty new, so I didn’t need to worry about the gaps. She said, I’m not here to sell you anything more. All you need to know is that your insurance won’t cover … I said no. She continued with the rest of the agreements.
It wasn’t until I inspected my car that I realized what she was doing. I found some additional damage to the car, and expected her to come out and argue about it. “Look,” I said, “I’ve had landlords who nickeled and dimed me for every bit of damage they saw. I don’t want to be charged for anything I didn’t do.”
She just signed the paper where I had indicated damage, sight unseen. “I’m not like that,” she said.
This woman was offering grace, in a cramped, stuffy rental car office. And I was resisting. I was expecting her to treat me as a walking wallet, valuing me according to what I paid, and what more she thought I could spend. But, in contrast, she treated everyone the same, and with respect. She was aware of each person in her office, and each person’s needs. She honored each person’s decisions, and the circumstances that required them to – for example – wait in the office until a cab arrived, instead of forcing them out onto the muddy step. And, she pushed back against the people who barged in, demanding extra attention. Her grace was given, not bought.
There are lots of places which ooze glamour and wealth, and where people are treated according to the wealth and success they project. And so, it was startling to find a little corner of Houston where we were all treated with respect and dignity, no matter what our circumstances. In the shabby little discount car rental office, this woman offered a bit of grace to all, because everybody seemed to need it. And many of us, unused to such treatment, found it odd. We didn’t know how to respond.
Now that I’m back at St. Paul’s, I reflect on that moment of grace. I was having a bad day, and I was expecting it to continue. I wanted to be on my own, to be on vacation, to not have to deal with other people. And yet, it was that moment of grace that helped turn my day around.
St. Paul’s tries to offer that moment of grace to all. We say we are welcoming, and we mean it. It doesn’t matter if you are dressed in designer clothes or disheveled jeans; whether you’re having a good day or a bad day, or somewhere in between. We try to be a sanctuary – like that office was – from the world that demands perfection. Because we believe that God offers us all much more than just a single moment of grace.Tags: Messenger May 2016 / Clergy Voices