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Call me old-fashioned then. But do I really have a way with words?
Oh yes. You have a way with everything! Gemma’s sudden brutal honesty sent my eyebrows into my hairline.
Tell me more, I said flirtatiously with a wink emoji.
Honestly, you do! People, especially. Remember that time I surprised you at work?
How could I forget? I shot back. It had been a good ten years into the friendship and Gemma had been in Cornwall with her then-wife on holiday. Unbeknownst to me, they’d been in contact with Petra to track down the exact shop in which I worked, and had absolutely made my day by turning up to meet me in-person.
I observed you in that queue as I waited for you to notice me. You’re a natural at customer service. You charm the socks off even the most uncommunicative people. They all leave with smiles on their faces. Smiles that you put there with your patter and wit.
More likely they’re smiling at the prospect of consuming whatever they’ve just bought, I responded dryly.
No, I’m serious. It’s a testament to what a good person you are. You can’t fake goodness like that. I could see you genuinely cared for those people, even if you only saw them for thirty seconds at a time, and you shone a little sun-beam into their lives.
All these thoughts from a few minutes’ observation? My acerbic tone was purely a defence mechanism, so she wouldn’t be able to tell how deeply her words were hitting. My stomach swirled: physical collywobbles returning to go with the emotional ones.
Yep, Gemma responded simply. Then, after a brief pause, And if Petra hasn’t told you this already, then shame on her.
Whoa, whoa, whoa. My fingers were flying across the keyboard before I could even filter what they were typing. Less of the insults! How do you know she hasn’t told me this?
Because if she had, I highly doubt you’d be blurting this out to someone on the Internet who you’ve only met twice, she retorted, and my fingers froze in the middle of the defensive paragraph they’d been typing. She clearly spotted my ‘typing’ icon disappear, because she then said, Gotcha?
That’s not strictly true, I said, having erased the unsent paragraph. Petra’s great.
I never said she wasn’t, Gemma said. From what you’ve said, she’s always been a beacon of light in your life, especially after what happened with your sister. But it’s my impression today that you’re seeking in me what she is failing to give you: support and positive affirmations.
You sound like a therapist, I bit back, but without much heart.
There’s worse things to sound like, she replied with a laughing emoji.
I guess! I mirrored the emoji.
Then she began to type, and didn’t stop for a long time. A minute passed, then two, and I rubbed my sleepy eyes as I contemplated what she could be saying to warrant such a long message.
Then it pinged through.
Well, you certainly sound like you need reminding of your worth, so here goes. And all of this is true, despite it sounding like something I’ve lifted off a positivity Instagram account. Jean, your worth is infinite. Not just as a customer service lady, but as a human being. Take the choir. I watch the videos you send us. You conduct them with such ease and elegance, you’d think the stanzas had been injected into your arms, and the look of pride you have when you turn around and bow at the end of a performance would bolster the confidence of even the most timid person. You’re always neat and professional and well-turned out, and you tie all the members of the choir together seamlessly. Obviously I’ve never been there in the flesh so I can’t be completely sure, but I’m willing to bet that your wonderful personality has something to do with it. In the LEAST cringe-worthy way possible, you really do light up rooms. Especially online chatrooms! I’m always so delighted when you pop up in the chat because a) I’m invested in your life, as any friend should be, and b) you always brighten my day. It’s why I jumped at the chance to chat to you tonight, even though I was half-asleep when I saw your message. So if any of these collywobbles are based in impostor syndrome or general lack of self-confidence, then collywobbles be gone, because they are very much not warranted.
Tears were stinging my eyes as I got to the end of her message. She sounded so, so like Petra – or Petra as she used to be, at least – that I was half-tempted to dash upstairs and see whether Petra had somehow hacked Gemma’s account to message me. But I’d heard the mattress squeak long ago as she got into it and her laptop was down here, so that was pretty much out of the question. I read the message through again, then brushed away the tears roughly.
Thank you, I typed, then my hands stilled on the keyboard. I didn’t know what else to say. Her message had sent so much emotion swirling through my body, but no words would come. Not wanting her to think I’d run away or fallen asleep, I sent it as it was, as just two words.
Collywobbles gone? Gemma said with a wink emoji.
Collywobbles gone, I confirmed, but this wasn’t strictly true as my body was now humming with adrenaline.
Get some sleep, she said. And screenshot that message. Print it out and carry it around with you. Heck, even tattoo it onto the backs of your eyelids if you have to – just BELIEVE IT!
I’ll try. Thank you, I said, then followed her advice and took a picture of the message on my phone before closing my laptop. The light it had given out vanished completely, leaving me in the semi-darkness of the kitchen. On autopilot, I turned out the lights, checked the doors and windows were locked then crept upstairs.
As predicted, Petra was asleep. I quickly got ready for bed and slipped under the covers, then lay facing away from her, hugging my knees to my chest.
But it wasn’t the eloquent, ego-stroking parts of Gemma’s paragraph that was stuck at the forefront of my brain as I lay there. Rather, it was one simple phrase: customer service lady.
Specifically, lady.
As I drifted off to sleep, there was only one question in the forefront of my mind.
