Augusta JAMES 

 

At exactly 8:40 every morning, Samuel walked through the office door. At first, nobody said anything. Then one morning, his supervisor looked at the clock and called: “Samue!” He stopped. “You’re late.” “Yes, sir. I’m sorry,” Samuel replied. The next morning, 8:47. The next week, 8:52. Soon, everyone stopped looking at the clock. Whenever Samuel appeared at the door, someone would grin. “Here comes our perpetual latecomer.” People laughed. Samuel laughed too. What else could he do? After a while, the joke became a description. Then the description became a verdict. Samuel is lazy. Samuel doesn't take his work seriously. Samuel is not reliable. His supervisor began giving important assignments to other people. “He's not dependable,” he would say. 

 

One Monday morning, Samuel arrived at 9:05. His supervisor was waiting. “Do you think this place is your house?” “No, sir.” “You do this every week. You're simply irresponsible.” Samuel lowered his head. “I’m sorry.” “Sorry for what? You are always sorry.” Someone at the next desk looked away and laughed at him. Someone else smiled. Samuel walked quietly to his seat, sad and depressed. That evening, he went into the bathroom, locked the door, sat on the closed toilet seat and cried. Not because his supervisor had shouted. He was used to that already.  He cried because he was tired. Tired of being the person everyone had already decided he was - an irresponsible perpetual late comer. 

 

Nobody in that office knew that Samuel woke up at 4:30 every morning. His younger sister had been sick for almost two years. Their mother was dead. Their father had left long ago. Before dawn, Samuel prepared his sister's food, helped her get ready and took her to the woman who cared for her while he worked. Then he hurried to the office. Some mornings, the woman came late and he had to wait for her. Some mornings, his sister had a bad episode and refused to let him leave. Most times, Samuel arrived at work already exhausted. But at 8:40, all anyone saw was a man walking through a door late. They saw the clock. They never saw the morning episode. 

 

A few months later, Samuel's supervisor was sitting at his desk when the woman who cared for Samuel's sister called him on the phone.  There had been an emergency and Samuel had to rush down to the hospital.

After the call ended, his supervisor sat quietly and wondered what the rush was all about. Then he remembered the mornings Samuel came late. The apologies. The lowered head. The tired face he had seen so many times without really seeing it. And at that moment he realized that the question shouldn't have been “Why is Samuel always late?” But, “What has Samuel been carrying?” He wished he had asked sooner.

 

Perhaps that is how some misunderstandings begin. We see a child sleeping in class and call him lazy. We see a woman become unusually quiet and assume she is proud. We see a friend stop returning calls and conclude that they no longer care. We see someone lose their temper and quickly give them a name. Sometimes, the behaviour really may need to change. But perhaps there is a difference between correcting what someone did and deciding who that person is.

 

Perhaps a question can sometimes make us understand more than a verdict. What happened? What might I not know? What could this person be carrying that I cannot see? What could this person be going through?  We may not always get an answer immediately. In some cases, we may still need boundaries. Understanding gives compassion a place to stand. Someone's behaviour is only one scene. There may be a whole story behind it.

 

So the next time someone's actions leave us frustrated, maybe there is room for one small pause before the conclusion. Not every late person is lazy. Not every quiet person is proud. Not every angry person is difficult. Sometimes, there is a story just outside the frame. We may have seen the scene. We may not have seen the movie. ~ The Augusta Effect