Hassan, The Rug Man

At least I think his name was Hassan. If not that, something very close. He came to my parents' house tonight as the rep from the rug company they called. It's finally time to rip up the 27-year-old rug and either put a new one down or leave the hardwood floors. So Hassan walks in with his briefcase and about 3 giant folders of rug samples. I didn't even really plan on being there. But i'm glad I was. I quickly became fascinated by Hassan...and marginally intrigued by the artistic process of my parents -- and to some small extent, me -- picking out a new rug color. But let's focus on Hassan. The point of this whole entry is that I felt such a melancholic empathy with the guy. He had a mild accent...seemed, oh, Egyptian or something like that. But nothing terrorist-like. Just a nice young guy...could've been 25, but also could've been right out of college. And here he was, based out of a company in Hackensack, driving around northern NJ at 5:30pm, entering strangers' houses with his rug crap, and polo shirt and khakis, and pleasant manner, desperately trying to secure a rug contract. I don't mean to imply he was sweating and nervous and begging us to sign on the dotted line. He was calm and professional, generally knew his stuff without consulting index cards, and laughed and interacted easily with my lovably wacky family. I actually liked that he wasn't this eye-rolling salesman talking a lot of shit. He wanted our business, but he wasn't an asshole about it. But here's the thing...he clearly doesn't get out of bed every morning going, "Holy FUCK, I can't WAIT to get to work selling rugs door to door!" I wondered what he went to school for...assuming he went to school. I wondered, basically, what he wanted out of life. And what he thought of my parents and myself...how genuine was he? How much did he JUST want my mother to pick a fucking color and get on with it? I kept praying my parents didn't hassle him too much...while also not being rushed into a sale. I stood there thinking, "good for you, Hassan...going to work every day at a job you surely couldn't care less about, and maintaining such an incredibly pleasant manner!" Everyone deserves respect...this is why I say "hi" and "thank you" and "have a good day" to everyone I encounter just doing their job...toll booth people, checkout person, bank teller, the guy on a corner in 20-degree weather selling papers. I don't know why they're there or how much they hate it...but they can't love it. And being spoken to nicely and with a smile may be the one thing keeping them going. I see too many people just grabbing their purchases and money, not even looking at who's giving it to them. It's rude and obnoxious. Be nice to the Hassans in your daily life. They're just trying to put food on the table and don't need your bullshit, uppity attitude. Hassan, you did a good job...whether or not my parents choose your company to beautify their home. You were polite, friendly, and doing the best you could. Raise for Hassan!