My mom was an art teacher. When we were kids anytime we’d sit down to work on an art project Mom would tell us to “find your focal point first.” She always said that once you have your focal point you build your picture around that. That our focal point gives us our perspective.
Our daughter Martha called us a few weeks back. She was crying so hard when we answered the phone that it was difficult to hear what was wrong. She has one of our cars with her at college and had taken friends to the store that afternoon. In the process of backing out of her spot in the parking lot at the mall she hit a cement post. It dented up the front quarter panel of our car. The whole episode had startled her, and embarrassed her.
It took much longer to get the story from her as she was sobbing, and difficult to understand. But that was the gist of it.
We directed her to contact our insurance company. She apologized about a dozen times. She complained that she hadn’t even wanted to go to the stupid store, but her friends had needed to get some things and kept asking her. She had eventually given in and taken them. And now this!
After directing her again to call the insurance company, we hung up the phone. An hour or so later she called back, still upset. She had called the insurance adjuster.
“The lady wasn’t even listening to me!” she complained, starting to cry again. “She just kept asking me stupid questions.”
I asked her to tell me the conversation.
“Well, I told her what had happened. Then she asked if anyone was hurt. I said no! Then she asked if I was listening to loud music. And I said no! I can’t listen to music when I drive because it distracts me! Then she asked if I was going too fast. I said no! I was BACKING UP in a parking lot! I told her, again, that the reason I didn’t see the cement thingy was because I was watching what was in the back-up camera so that I wouldn’t hit anything and the cement thingy was next to the front of our car, not behind me.”
I encouraged her to calm down. Which is never helpful.
She started crying harder. Clearly frustrated. And upset at herself for having her first accident, and being completely at fault.
“I felt like she wasn’t even listening to me. I kept saying that the front driver’s side of the car was all banged in and that I needed to pay for it because it shouldn’t be up to my parents to pay it. It wasn’t their fault. It was my fault.”
She stopped talking for a second or two as a new round of sobs hit. I tried to be encouraging. But nothing I said was even remotely helpful.
She stopped talking for a second, trying to stop crying and just breathe. I waited.
“Then the lady said, ‘And did a child die?’ And I was like, ‘What are you even talking about?! Didn’t you hear what I said? I hit a cement post in a parking lot!’ The whole conversation was stupid! She wasn’t even LISTENING to me!”
I closed my eyes then, to keep the tears back. I was smiling. Mentally thanking that particular insurance adjuster.
I assured our 20-year-old daughter that I thought the woman had been listening to her. I explained that I thought the question was intended to help put the whole experience into perspective. For Martha. The new driver who was a complete emotional wreck over a single vehicle fender bender.
Martha, of course, didn’t get that at all. She didn’t see the wisdom in it. But I did.
I imagine that particular insurance adjuster has probably handled calls over far more serious car accidents than this one. Very likely she’s had to process accidents that have resulted in the loss of a life. For her, Martha’s fender bender in the parking lot was a minor incident. And her question, I think, was an effort to help Martha see it that way, too.
Eventually Martha seemed to get it. She stopped crying, and her breathing settled down. Yes, the front quarter panel of our car would need to be replaced. Yes, she would pay for it. And yes, everybody got home safely.
There was no loss of life. No serious injury. Just a banged up front quarter panel on the car.
I reassured her, again, that it would all be okay. That it already was okay. And it was while we were hanging up the phone that I heard my Mom’s words again.
I think Mom was right. It’s all about choosing your focal point. And building your perspective from there.
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