Crying in H-Mart, if H-Mart was Target

How the emotionally intelligent stranger brought me to tears

Welcome to DPP, a weekly newsletter about the real life trials and tribulations of pleasing, and how I leverage emotional intelligence for proper recovery. Letters land on Tuesdays (and some Fridays!), please allow me a first-class seat with your inbox?

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I haven’t actually read Crying In H-Mart by Michelle Zauner, but I know it is a beautiful story about processing grief, and somebody starts crying in the grocery store. Probably why I haven’t been able to commit. It is on my TBR list and hopefully, I get there one day.

On the eve of my son’s fourth birthday, I cried. At Target. In front of a stranger.

The date was November 3, 2024. August would be turning 4 in a matter of hours. He was sleeping, and I got my signed permission slip to go on a shopping trip ALONE, while Omar stayed home with him. (To be clear I don’t need permission, but with my schedule these days alone time is a rare diamond-tier opportunity.)

It was the end of a long Sunday, we had started packing for our move and I was in desperate need of a shower and fresh clothes. I typically show up to Target under these conditions, so I figured that they would accept me at my worst with open arms. I grabbed my cherished BAGGU and ran for the car like it was my life purpose.

Augie’s birthday is important to me. He is my only child (which I love, and don’t have plans to change), and I treasure celebrating milestones with him. On a more selfish note, Augie’s birthday is also MY birthday, philosophically speaking. To any moms out there- did your life not change COMPLETELY the day your child was born??? I am physically, mentally, spiritually, and emotionally, a different being from the version of myself in the days before August. Celebrating his existence is also a private little pat on the back from me to me.

Dear People Pleasers would not exist without August. I likely would have never realized my pleasing patterns if he were not around to observe and absorb my actions. It’s because of him I “woke up” and decided to change.

So, of course Target is where I flock to celebrate my precious darling.

August loves Target. Typically, after shopping around with me we drive by the Monster Jam section and look for clearance trucks, or cars under $5. His collection is vast, and he has been called spoiled. I prefer to think of this as our barter system, his good behavior earns him an affordable toy. We also have a donation system established that he has not exactly embraced, but hey- he’s just turning 4. Cut him some slack.

I pull into the parking lot and cut Higher Love mid-chorus (sin) so that I can get this show on the road.

I’m inside and discover that I picked the one shopping cart that drags to the left and sounds like a tragedy happening down every aisle. I don’t have time to find another cart - the show must go on.

My Mission:

• Forage Cupcake ingredients

• Pick up paper plates (sorry trees- we are moving!)

• Capture the stupid & overpriced Green Head from Rainbow Friends toy section that August has been asking for 24/7 since being told his birthday was on the horizon

• Get out & get home before he wakes up

I’m working to check off my first task of capturing cupcake ingredients. Up & down the cake & frosting aisle looking for something simple and easy. Strawberry cupcakes- MINE. I grab the mix and toss it into the forsaken buggy. Confetti frosting (highly illegal and sugary) is also thrown into my basket of doom.

On a roll, I whip to the end of the aisle only to screech to a HAULT when I see another shopping cart poking beyond the aisles exit path. I stretch myself over the handle of my cart to identify just exactly who thinks it would be fine to cut me off at this hour (or any hour, really) and see a sweet little granny, also slowing down in her path to let me cross first. Ashamed, embarrassed, and at a standstill, I give her a smile and mouth a silent “THANK YOU!!”

I haul ass out of there and move on to paper plates.

Before I find them, I come up on the toys and spot the coveted Green Head mystery box that doubles as a piggy bank and throw it in my cart. As I pivot to exit the chaos known as Toy Department, I am met with a cart attempting to block my pathway, AGAIN. The nerve?! I pull my cart back towards my body and crane my neck around the end of the aisle.

The culprit: wouldn’t you know- it’s Granny. What is she doing??

Me: “You go ahead! It’s your turn to cross this time.”

Her: Long, blank stare.

Me: *thinks to self* Should I just go?? Maybe she can’t hear me? Maybe she doesn’t speak English? …

Back to her: “You know something?”

Me: *thinks to self* Oh dear GOD. I have provoked the dragon. Here we go. Brace yourself woman, you can do this!!

Me to her: “What’s that?!”

Me: *thinks to self* Pray, Pray, Pray. Please let’s not fight right now. I am SORRY my cart and I exist in your world!

Her: “I was in a really grouchy mood when I came in here. Then you gave me that big smile as you passed me. You really helped someone today…”

…

Me, after a moment, thinking to myself & out loud: “MAY I HUG YOU?!”

These kinds of situations do not happen to me often ever. I am introverted and avert my eyes from contacting any line of sight to another human’s eyes when I’m off duty & public. I am secretly kind, but when in a group of strangers, I do not exude compassion, or “I care about you” expressions in ANY capacity. I give more “mysterious and we definitely need to “randomly” TSA check her” vibes.

I don’t know the last time I hugged a stranger. Even pre-Covid. I do love hugs, but not with people I’ve never met. This hug made me think I should make an effort to change that, but then I realized I would have to talk to strangers, and the vision ended there. As a people-pleaser, and an exhausted HR representative, I’m worried that random people will meet my eyes with a pleading “help me” stare, and I’ll feel obligated to drop my life to assist. I realize this is a personal problem, and I am working on it.

I told Granny that she helped someone too. & that I appreciated her and her cart, and the fact that Target brought us together. It takes an emotionally intelligent person to be able to admit they were feeling grumpy. To be able to verbally identify a mood helps to diffuse it, and to be able to share said mood with a stranger is going beyond the call of duty for sweet Granny.

I pulled back and wiped the tears that had leaked out of my eyes during our embrace. Her lingering hand on my wrist, and watery gaze, tell me she doesn’t get to hug others very often. My heart is both breaking and bonding with hers under the fluorescent lights in the middle of Monster Jam vs Hot Wheels. Anyone walking by could see we were having a private moment and quickly evacuated OUR aisle.

And there we were, folks. Perfect strangers. Hugging, and crying, in Target.

We parted ways without me catching her name, although I did think about asking for her number. Introversion got the best of me and I decided that would have been too creepy for our first date.

I made my way over to the checkout lane after grabbing Bluey-themed plates to face the horrors of Apple Pay not working due to an internet connectivity issue in the moments following. That story, I’ll save for another day.

The next morning my sweet August woke up to his toys, cupcakes, and a surprise trip to Legoland. I treasured life’s greatest gift to me as he welcomed his fourth year of life into being, and I thought about Granny (and have been thinking about her) ever since. While I doubt she is on Substack, maybe one day she will see this and remember just how special being in the right place at the right time, with the wrong cart, can be. 🐞

Thank you for reading!

I hope you can hug someone today. Maybe even a stranger?? Kidding. They’re mine. All of them.

Xx,

K. Alexandra