Can You Hold Love and Anger at the Same Time?

I asked myself this question after a situation I unexpectedly found myself in while out on an adventure with one of my children. Read until the end, and tell me, what would you do? 

I had taken my youngest son to a kids' themed fun park in search of some greasy pizza and an evening of excitement. It's the kind of place that fills up quickly on the weekends with families searching for wholesome, obnoxiously loud, and somewhat expensive indoor fun. 

When we got there, we wandered through the crowds, scoping out the activities, and found items for purchase that my son tried to convince me he couldn't possibly live without, "Please, please, please, please!" he pleaded each time he picked up a toy or nick knack of some sort. The promise of dinner seemed to be a good distraction from window shopping, so we headed to the pizza place and got in line. As we waited for our turn to order, my 10-year-old would randomly jump up and down every minute or two, yell and pump his fists in anticipation of the cheesy goodness that was about to be ours. "Pizza! Pizza! Hooray! Pizza!" (His developmental delays don't stop him from recognizing a good time when he sees one!). When we finally ordered our pizza, we were given a notification buzzer and told it would be ready in about 15 minutes. 

Chaos at the Pizza Counter

The dinner rush was starting to accumulate, and we decided to stake out a table before they all got snatched up. We people-watched and talked about activities we could do after dinner as we waited for our buzzer to go off. A good half hour passed before I returned to the order counter to see if our pizza was ready. By then, the crowd of kids and adults were packed pretty snuggly in that small space. They all seemed to be eagerly awaiting their orders, too. Most had their gaze fixed forward on the pizza production efforts - loud ovens and fans and a swarm of workers shouting over the machines' noise about pizzas, ingredients, and order numbers. 

I needed to weave my way through the crowd to get to the pick-up area in hopes of asking an employee if our pizza was ready. I excused myself as I worked my way through the group towards the counter. The closer I got to the front, I could hear a man yelling at one of the employees, using profanity and complaining because, I eventually gathered, his order was inaccurate and it would need to be remade. Which probably meant that he and the group of kids that stood next to him would need to wait longer for their food. How upsetting for them, but also for everyone in that space at that moment who was witnessing this play out.  

The Role (and Power) of a Bystander

As a Human Resources and Organizational Development practitioner, I hold a certain level of care for our employees. But I did not work for this establishment; I was simply a patron - a mom trying to create great memories for her son. Yet I was upset at what I was seeing. This woman's dignity was being compromised, and she was being belittled and harassed by an angry customer. Even though these weren't my employees, I felt protective of them. I started to feel anger bubble up inside as I observed this dehumanizing behavior playing out in front of me at a family fun venue.

By the time I got up to the counter, I had caught a glimpse of who he was yelling at - an older woman, probably in her late 50s, no taller than 4 foot 10 inches. This poor woman, I thought. I was angry about what I had been hearing, but then my attention shifted to her. That's when compassion started to kick in. I wanted to offer her care. I wanted to see her face. Had he made her cry with his rantings? Was she shaken? But my brain said back to me that it wasn't my place. I was just a patron at the restaurant. 

Just as she turned in my direction, I recognized her! This woman who was being berated while working in a kids-theme park was a person I had previously worked with. Immediately my focus shifted from my head to my heart space, and it flooded with empathy and love for her. In a flash, I recalled her struggles in life. She had been laid off at the beginning of COVID and was desperate to return to work. She was a hard worker, a dedicated employee, and a caring soul. I recalled more personal things, like how she struggled to get her GED as an adult. She had told me about her extreme difficulty with reading and learning, and how her self-esteem was significantly impacted by that all her life. She didn't deserve what was happening to her. No one ever deserves that type of treatment. 

Choosing Compassion over Anger

Again, my focus shifted. This time back to a state of anger about what was happening to her. The man was still launching his profanity-ladened complaints in her direction and I desperately wanted to do something! I wanted to say something to him to make him stop hurting her with his words. I wanted him to realize that she was a person and had feelings like everyone else. No pizza was worth the damage he was causing her and the other casualties that stood by in that small space. I was so angry I was shaking inside. I felt helpless. What could I do? Should I respond with righteous anger towards this tantrum-throwing man, or would that cause more undo harm? I wasn't sure. By now, I had made it to the front counter, and we stood across from one another. I greeted her warmly with a smile and called her by name. It was the least I could do. She smiled a little half-smile and raised her head a little as she looked up and noticed it was me. I showed her my buzzer number and asked if my pizza was ready. 

She went to the warmer and checked, and returned with a pizza box in hand. She came around by the end of the counter to hand it to me, and just as she did that, I instinctively leaned over the edge of the counter, stretched my arm out, warmly pulled her towards me in a side embrace, and kissed the top of her head. I told her that I loved her. At that moment, she didn’t need one more lecture about the timely nature of the pizza, or for me to argue with anyone on her behalf.  Instead, she needed to know that she was loved.  She uttered something back, but it was so loud I found it to be mostly indiscernible. All I could make out was, "Thank you."  

I don't remember what else happened during or after this moment because I was hyper-focused on making sure she felt loved during this chaotic shift. I didn’t want to be another bystander who allowed an innocent person to be harmed in my presence, not if I could do something about it.  Instead of acting out of anger, I chose quiet compassion. I saw her as a person, a human being, and appreciated her efforts, and I wanted her to know that. That was the most important overall. I think this was one of the bravest things I've done recently, not because I had intended to be brave, but because in that moment, I chose to overcome the anger with love when faced with a split-second, moral dilemma out in public. 

My Question to You

What would you have done? I’d love to hear your response in the comments below.

While we are out and about enjoying time with those whom we love this summer, let's remember those working in the service industry and have patience, kindness, and respect towards them. After all, in their roles, they are helping us create fun memories for ourselves and those we love.