Work Tales
Handle with Care
Carrying the weight of a stranger’s memories

A customer asked if I could help her. She needed to move photos from a camera SD card onto a USB flash drive. There were tears in her eyes.
I worked at the Help Desk. It was the place in the store for customers to receive a refund, return an item, or have a product repaired. The Help Desk was where some shoppers would go to shout; it’s where the police came to when I called them.
In short: I handled customers’ wants; very few were in need.
The pictures were of her husband, who had recently passed away. Could I help? It was a simple request, but I felt uncomfortable with the burden of someone else’s memories.
I envisioned having to copy over hundreds of snaps of holidays, family gatherings, and dinner dates. Seeing a face that was no longer here. But it was a simple task; I said I would help.
There were only two files. I asked to open one to check if they were the correct images. She agreed.
Her husband lay on what appeared to be a bare hospital bed; his body was wrapped white, and only his face was showing.
Sometimes there is a benefit to having a passive face and a monotone voice: no need for a mask. When I have nothing to say, I say nothing. Selfish, it only helps me.
I copied the photos. The customer thanked me, and she left.
I had thought it an odd thing for her to photograph and keep. Know-nothing ignorance and arrogance, I know.
Now, I only feel sad about the day I met her husband.