The Tea Lady

Mrs Baxter, was the woman with the huge portly metal teapot. She was the lady responsible for making tea, coffee and soup and for the overall cleaning of the kitchen. She had silver grey hair swept back into a bun and always wore clothes in spinster black.

“Words are like stones, she declared, they should not be tossed carelessly.”

I threw a lop-sided smile when I heard that statement I pondered on the wisdom of stones thrown with care, but even at sixteen I understood what she meant and those words stayed with me. Mrs Baxter had great wisdom and she always lifted people up.

One morning not too long ago, I bumped into a woman who I thought was a friend — until she hurled her words carelessly.

“No one is interested in what you do” The words, did what they were meant to do, they took aim and blasted me to the core. I flinched and tried to respond but I remained speechless feigning as though I was unbothered. I was particularly wide eyed with shock because I did not even bring up what I was doing.

For several days the words echoed over and over in my mind. I had no idea why she would want to say something like that and I felt angry at myself for not enlightening her that my head had not increased because I just had an article published. I assumed that she was referring to this. However, this was my first mistake, with hindsight, I ought to have communicated with her to find out what the actual issue was rather than standing in stony silence.

Perhaps, she totally misunderstood the creative arena and believed because I had an article published that my head size increased. If that was the case, she certainly misjudged me. After years of harsh and continual struggle, to find some sense in my unemployment I had at last achieved something to be joyous about. Perhaps, the hurt ripped my emotions more because for the first time in a while I was happy. I had good news and she threw a soggy blanket over my happiness.

For one year and six months a grey cloud washed over me. I was a casualty of bleak austerity. Unemployment is not just about lack of money, it is also about the lack of having real meaning and purpose, something to give routine to my day. I can assure you the long days of nothingness, lying long and endless choked the smile off my face.

I decided to do a second masters in Digital Arts in the Humanities, with the realisation that my previous one had been a futile endeavour. Digital Arts in the Humanities was certainly a challenge. I struggled, many night, concerned about the prospect of failing. That is until three Pizap stickers weaved their magic. With great joy, I managed to create my first comic panel and discovered digital comics.

Of course I was delighted when I graduated, something I thought I would never achieve when I first started. So it was time for the next step — finding employment.

One night, I scripted a story, each word releasing my pent up frustrations and disappointments. Thus, when the article got published, it was a moment of celebration. Ok, it was not the New Yorker, but it was certainly a delight to see my article out there in print and it gave me a hint of hope. Surely, now the struggle would cease, I had found something that brought nourishment to my dry bones. It didn’t matter if I didn’t make much money. I had something to break the curse of nothingness. I would like to say at this point unemployment has its scars, it made no diva of me. In fact I would say, I have had to work hard to rebuild my confidence and I am still not quite there.

I am not sure why someone I am fond of would utter such a barbed remark, and I have to add, the words were mouthed with a sniggering smile. Then again, I do not want to embark on the path of judgement.

It is amazing what kind words do. Mrs Baxter was a great encourager. Her words like soothing balm. She made the office a joy to work in. Mrs Baxter showed by her very presence that she was interested in you. She would wheel her jingly jangly tea trolley into each room, pour out hot steaming tea and in the process ask each individual how they were. She took time to get to know you and when sadness fell upon me she would surprise me with my favourite biscuit to accompany my tea.

Mrs Baxter would be viewed as less important than the boss of the company by many people. But, in my opinion, she was pivotal in the company.

“You’ll catch a chill in that.” she would caution me on days when frost made one’s fingers tingle. Now a smile spans my face, I didn’t quite get it then but now with years upon me, I fully understand.

At lunch time, we would all saunter into the kitchen and enjoy a huge bowl of her kitchen made soup and crusty bread with lashings of butter. Maybe that is why I enjoy making my own soup. Perhaps, the comfort I get from a bowl of soup, its taste dancing on my tongue is a legacy to Mrs Baxter. In that kitchen, we told the stories of our lives, we laughed and we cried. Mrs Baxter had created hearth in the office resulting in a company that was good to work for. I pose a question can a CEO do that?

It is sad that in order to create economically successful workplaces, the role of the tea-lady and at that time it was mainly women, has disappeared and has been replaced by machines and take-aways. In my opinion, a good tea-lady was a positive investment for any company. Am I wrong to say that the work-place has become less sociable as the office has changed considerably and a more professional approach is preferred with less casual conversation. I will expound more on this in my next blog.

Now, regarding the woman who battered me emotionally with her comment. I have no ill will whatsoever. Like all of us, I am not immune to words that fall heavy. It’s seems to be part of our human landscape to receive toxic comments. I chose to forgive, let go and move on, and it matters not if she and the others she cited are uninterested in what I do. I love my life on the story path.

However, I have to state that the strangest thing happened in the process of forgiving. The healing process resulted in withdrawal not only from her but from the whole grouping. My moving away happened naturally, the comic road propelled me onto a different path towards new friendships and then of course we had lockdown.

Then one night when the sky was like black canvas it came to me that I had forgotten Mrs Baxter’s wisdom and I myself was guilty of tossing careless words. An incident in my life caused my bones to ache and my words to become brittle. However, I chose the path to offer my apologies, I needed to move away from the incident and apologising was part of the healing process. One day I may even write about this incident but for now, it’s not the time.

My withdrawal from the group does not mean I don’t have any love for the people, not at all. In the process of letting go, I matured and discovered that I had participated in a group that was ill-matched for me. Unemployment and lack of confidence pushed me into a group that did nothing to nourish me. I had essentially positioned myself into a group that suffocated me because I did not love or respect myself. In hindsight I was difficult; not purposely so. but because I was inauthentic thus playing a role, and I had nothing in common. It has to be said that when you are the awkward one of a group it wearies people and soon they start the retreat.

Yes it may be difficult to be alone for a while but it is never fruitful to remain in the company of anyone who only offers lip service to acceptance.

Anyway, it’s time to end this story, my words are no longer flowing. I think it is fitting to close by highlighting one of the many gems of wisdom from Mrs Baxter.

“My dear, if you feel any form of resentment or jealousy perhaps it is a sign from God to look into your own heart.”

Those words have remained with me and if I sense that horrid wide-eyed snarling green monster, I stop and I look deep within to see what is actually triggering me. After all, when people are happy our communities move more contentedly. This is especially so in the office. People work better in a nourishing atmosphere when they are totally embraced. Estrangement is not conducive to healthy working environments. Maybe there is something in the clanging noise of a tea trolley and a smile that uplifts the spirit that gives one a sense that all shall be well.

And to you, Mrs Baxter, I would like to thank you for your wonderful embracing presence. Without knowing, you taught me so much.