What did you just say to me?

I was alone on the beach at 5AM when the man approached. He was rugged and stared at me shrewdly. It caught me off guard and I was momentarily alarmed, before remembering how out of place I must have looked.

--

It was summer. Sometime in the middle of July, after I had started a new job in Los Angeles. It was a promotion--the new job. I was 22 and making more money than both my parents combined. But it was commitment, and something about that didn’t sit well with me.

My friends from college were newly graduated, traveling, partying, or otherwise celebrating their youth and freedom before the dreaded “9 to 5” and “adulthood.”

I envied them at times. The carefreeness of it all.

Was I bitter? Oh yeah.

While everyone was relaxing and enjoying their early 20s as they should, I was going on my 4th job. There wasn’t much choice when your parents could not afford to support you. It simply was the way things were.

So I indulged. I took weekend getaways whenever I could. That was how I found myself in Hawaii. Restless and looking for ways to clear my mind from the challenges of the new job, I booked a flight on a whim. The flight was near 6 hours each way, and I’d only be there for a day and a half.

At the time, I was young, well paid, and lonely. I blew through cash like my mother wouldn’t believe (and she nagged me quite often for it too). I did what I wanted, when I wanted, with no concern for anyone’s opinion simply because I could. I felt like the ability to buy my moments of freedom was the very least I could reward myself with, after being trapped into a life of work, work, and more work.

--

I had no idea what I was doing on such a beautiful island. I just knew I wanted a change of scenery. A day and a half wasn’t enough to do anything, but I was determined to make the most of it. I didn’t sleep, and was determined to catch the sunrise.

I hopped into my rental at half past 4 in the morning and packed a book, some blankets, and some sweaters. I set up away from the water and read as best I could in the dim morning light. That was when a shadow fell over me.

I looked up and saw a man. He had a t-shirt wrapped around his head, wore a torn up wife beater, and shorts that looked like they’d never been washed. I hadn’t noticed him walk up to me at all and mentally slapped myself for not paying attention.

Tropical paradise or not, I was after all, still a young girl alone in a place far from home.

“How are you keeping your nose down in a book when you have all this in front of you?”

Was he drunk? Or was I being too judgmental. He didn’t seem to want any trouble, but I was still on edge. I was sitting as he stood, looming over me. It wasn’t a good set up, even if I needed to run. So I sat up carefully and entertained the conversation.

I was about to respond politely, when he spoke again.

“You’re not from here, are you?”

“No, I’m not,” I said. At his uncomfortable staring, I continued with some hesitation. “I’m from LA.”

“What about your folks?” He asked, “Where are they? Where’s your family?”

I kept wondering if I should lie, but he seemed like a local and the locals I had encountered so far were easy going. Something prompted me to be honest. It couldn’t hurt, it’s not like he knew any of my personal information.

“I’m just here on a little getaway from work. It’s good to unwind and destress. I just got promoted and have a lot on my plate, along with an entire team to manage.”

“Oh you’re one of those smart ones that makes money sitting at your little desk, aren’t you? You’re so young, what do your parents do?”

It was a sore spot for me. I felt prideful in my accomplishments. Everything I did, I did on my own. I had to navigate my own way, find my own resources, pave my own path. But that’s not something I wanted to dump on a complete stranger.

“They’re both blue collar. My mom is a housewife. And my dad’s just a mailman.”

I’m not sure why I was so defensive about it. Perhaps it was shame. Perhaps something else. But what happened next is something that will forever be seared into my memory, and stay with me for as long as I can remember.

“Don’t say ‘just’. Never say that.”

What? What was he even talking about? He must have seen the confusion on my face, because he elaborated.

“You said your dad is just a mailman.”

“But he is…?” I knew this guy had to be off his rocker.

“They’re your parents. Blue collar or whatever you just called them. He a good dad to you? A good man? Does he cheat, steal, hurt people?”

“Well, of course not. I guess he’s a good dad, he works hard.”

“They do what they can. They may not be book smart like you, but don’t shame them. Say your dad is a mailman. Period. Don’t downplay him. Kids these days have no respect for their parents at all. Just a mailman. How degrading. I hope your old man never hears you say that. You must really hurt him with that just a mailman business. He’s a mailman. Got it?”

He walked away after that. I guess he decided I was no longer worthy of talking to? He seemed a little affronted like I had somehow offended him. I didn’t really pay attention to that though.

His words had unsettled me. And I would continue replaying it for a long time after that. Ultimately, what I realized… was that he’s absolutely right.

I preemptively disrespected my parents, because I knew that my colleagues and peers would look down on his profession. I wanted to get ahead of it, so I subconsciously jumped on the bandwagon.

I felt ashamed of myself. Really ashamed. And when that shame lifted and cleared, I eliminated the word ‘just’ from my vocabulary.

And I realized just what that man had done for me on the beach. Good deeds aren’t always dramatic grand gestures of heroism. Sometimes, they take the form of words. He had unknowingly, selflessly defended my working class parents, from my entitlement. And had put me on a trajectory to be a better daughter.

And now I will pass his lesson on to more people, whenever I can.