The kinder voice

It was one of my first days at the pantry when I heard Sr. Joellen answer the phone. She spoke very slowly and softly and kindly-- much more slowly and softly and kindly than you would expect to hear someone speaking over the phone. In our fast-paced world, it seemed as though someone speaking that slowly and softly and kindly would kind of annoy the person on the other end of the line. I picked up from her end of the conversation that someone was calling about services needed. Sr. Joellen told her to come in.

Not too long after that, a lady appeared at the door. I knew right away that it was the lady Sr. Joellen had spoken with-- something about the bit of anticipation in her eyes just let me know that she was the one who had called ahead. I invited her in. She said she didn't know who she had spoken to, just that the person had been very, very nice to her. She said this in a relieved tone of voice, and it occurred to me how very much crap poor people have to deal with on a daily basis.

I've honed my voice over this past year into one of authority. I guess I don't use that voice all the time, but I've had to use it often enough that I can pull it out anytime. I use it against teenagers that sometimes forget I'm not their peer. I use it when things get out of hand. I use it over the phone so I don't sound like I"m twelve.

Ever since that day, I've been trying to re-hone my voice into something slow and soft and kind. It's my service-voice. Whenever anyone comes into the pantry, I try to use it, even if they speak quickly, even if they are unpleasant in some way. I wasn't sure if it was really making a difference, but this seemed to be an area where I should perhaps try to emulate Sr. Joellen. It seemed the right thing to do.

During one conversation in which I was very consciously using this voice, a lady told me that I was very kind and helpful. I took that as a success. Maybe the voice will annoy some people, or make no difference to all to others. But it's enough for me when I'm able to make someone feel a bit better during a really crappy day of an entirely imperfect life.