Levels of Hell: Circle K of Purgatory

Working customer service feels a little like being both the bouncer and the stripper at the club. I have to make sure people act right, don’t abuse employees, and don’t scare other customers. And when people pay, they sometimes toss crumpled bills at me like I’m part of the show. Debit cards too.

What I’ve learned is that people either really like me or are a little afraid of me. There doesn’t seem to be much middle ground. But even the ones who are afraid of me at least respect me. I guess that’s just customer service.

On a busy day I can have 400 conversations. On a slow day, a couple hundred. Most are forgettable, some are kind, a few are rough. My coworkers can remember people’s names and what they buy every day. I used to be able to do that too. Now, between law school and life, I just don’t have the mental hard drive space for all that trivial nonsense.

But I’ve realized something important. People want to feel cared for. They want to feel seen. They want to matter. With everything happening in the world, especially with an administration that reduces entire groups of people to “the worst of the worst,” it’s easy to become numb. It’s easy to flatten people into one-dimensional images. Standing behind that counter reminds me every day that I don’t know the life someone is going home to after they buy their gas, energy drinks, or cigarettes. All I know is that in that brief interaction, I have a chance to make someone feel human.

And it goes both ways.

I’ve had customers yell at me and then come back later to apologize. I never asked for it, but I appreciated it. Not just the apology, but the self-reflection that came with it. I try to do the same. I’m the first to apologize when I know I’m wrong. I’ll even apologize to a door if I bump into it. Very Asian of me.

I question myself constantly. My opinions, my assumptions, where they come from. I’ve always been deeply self-reflective and far more self-critical than most people realize. Nothing in my life was handed to me. Opportunity only matters if you’re willing to take risks and do the work.

I’m 51 years old, working at a gas station, and going to law school. That says a lot about who I am. Some days I fail badly. I disappoint myself. I disappoint others. But more often than not, I’ve given more than I’ve received.

No matter how tired or frustrated I get, when I fall, I lie there for a minute, and then I get back up. I keep trying to do better. For myself. For my community.

Some people have been part of my journey. Some have dropped off. New folks join along the way. At every point, I’m grateful for the people who showed up when they did. But gratitude doesn’t mean you have to keep everyone forever. It’s okay to outgrow people who want you to stay small, stay stuck, or stay silent.

Growth requires different company. And that’s okay too. Some people get to be part of that journey. Others don’t.