photograph: pinterest

Dear Reader,

I work at a museum. The exhibits are interactive and the quality of the art depends on your reflection and LED lights. I stand in the dark corners, wearing all black, waiting to help confused couples or lost children. This gives me a lot of time to people-watch (around 20-25 hours to be exact). 

You see the real museum-goers at places like this, not the versions of themselves trying to stand up straight, walk with their hands clasped behind their backs, and feign interest in 100-year-old oil paintings. I spend hours watching the average man, yet at the end of my shift, I feel I've watched the most extraordinary. 

There was the bald man with a red face one night. He wore the tight blue Under Armour shirt your brother had under his soccer uniform. It clung to his beer belly and I could see the outline of his belly button. He entered the exhibit, a house made of projectors playing thunderstorm videos, and made finger puppets on the walls. I giggled despite knowing the images weren’t for me and was quickly embarrassed when I realized someone who couldn't see them was watching me laugh in the corner alone. 

The same night, an old couple rolled into my station. Neither could walk and were in electric wheelchairs. They asked me to explain the exhibit and I was happy to take advantage of the time to talk to others. They thanked me for my help and rolled around and around the room. They touched the house's walls, put their ears up to the sides, and took in every second of the recordings. They moved around more than anyone in the room. I was shocked at how someone decades older and unable to walk was more mobile than everyone else. I admired their interest in all the small details and was confused that the others watching weren’t more inclined to follow their lead and get what they paid for. 

I’m usually not one to “awwwww” at a young, touchy couple. I’m usually disgusted at how far people think they can go in museums—as if they are something separate from the public eye. That night though, one couple made me smile. They were having so much fun, like children, and when they walked into the house they sat on the floor criss-cross-applesauce. When the projections started their shadow was cast onto the floor behind them. I watched them the entire show. I saw when he kissed the top of her head and how he was watching her reaction the entire time instead of the footage. They did nothing gross, but I was still shocked at my admiration for them. They made me (for a second) feel like one of those people who loves love.  It was nice to give my bitterness a break, although it returned quickly at the sight of a pair getting too comfortable on the bean bags in the immersive theatre. 

I dread my shift before I go and I complain about it when it’s over; however, when I’m in it I’m enthralled. I write down every person that catches my eye in the notebook we were provided to, “write positive customer interactions with.” I don’t think this is what my manager had in mind but it works for me. For me, a positive customer experience is one with little to no words and an ignorance of my presence. I get to be a fly on the wall here and there’s nothing bad I can say about that. 

Love,

Isabella