The Beauty of America

“Give me your tired, your poor, 

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, 

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. 

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, 

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!” 

She was beautiful, impeccably dressed and carried herself with an unfaltering sense of confidence. However, the first thing I noticed about Hana was not her image, but her work ethic. Having been in my managerial position only days, the few hours I had spent in my new work environment had been laden with the learning of computer procedures and correct clientele protocol.  Still, every hour I had been present,  Hana kept landing in my peripheral vision. From afar, Hana seemed quick witted, light on her feet and constantly moving.  Rapid movement in the pursuit of sales.  The type of commitment to customer service most generally depicted in luxury retail training videos and work manuals. Needless to say, Hana made an impression on me even before I met her, and long before she shared her story with me.  

Who is that girl who seems to know every customer?  I asked my new coworker.
 

Oh that's Hana.  She's a top producer.  She's a force, but the sweetest girl you'll ever meet.

Having worked in sales most of my adult life I would have to say those two statements rarely go together.  Top producer AND the sweetest?  OK, sure it's possible, but not very common.  Being new to this upper echelon retail environment where 10,000 dollar evening clutches and 20,000 dollar evening gowns fly off the shelves like flashlights during hurricane season, I had to admit, I was a little intimidated. 

I watched as Hana handled the toughest high maintenance customers with ease.  Never cowering down in often stressful situations, she had a way of handling people with an air of confidence and firmness that even the most overindulgent, spoiled client seemed to appreciate. You'd be barking up the wrong tree if you thought you would ever get one over on Hana.  She was ready for whatever came her way.  Sometimes it seemed she must have experienced every customer scenario possible and had a mental notebook filled with politically correct comebacks and reprieves.  She was a true master and I got a kick out of watching her move overpriced designer merchandise like a well oiled fabulous selling machine.

How do you do it? 

My opening question seemed as good a way as any to introduce myself.

She answered with a sense of self mockery that led me to believe the sweet rumors I had heard were true.  As we talked about our past sales experiences and what had brought us to our current jobs, she shared with me the fact that she was originally from Indonesia.  

I had noticed her English was a bit broken, but she handled it with such ease and finesse it did not pose a problem. However, as she confided in me that she often loses words and might ask from time to time for help with grammar situations, I realized this seemingly always composed chick was also a bit intimidated at times.  A fact that endeared her all the more to me.  

Our friendly banter started off slowly, but as retail hours became long and sometimes quiet, we began to talk at more length from day to day.  I was amazed to learn of her journey as an impoverished and barely educated 20 year old girl from Indonesia. A brave young girl who took a chance at a better life in my beautiful country.  A country filled with opportunities which I have often taken for granted.

At 20 Hana knew there must be something better out there. Some place where life wasn't so immensely difficult, filled with hard thankless labor and little opportunity for education.   She had heard rumors about a man who would often visit her small village.  Rumors that for the right amount of money he could smuggle you into the U.S. A place she had dreamt of and most importantly a place she thought could bring an end to the cycle of poverty and dismal destitution which had kept her family held captive for generations.  

Completely captivated, I listened as she described with heartbreak how tough it was to leave her family. Unaware of where she was going and completely unsure of the people and circumstances that would get her there, with blind faith she boarded a plane and landed in Los Angeles, CA. It was the beginning of the unknown and the summer before her 21st birthday.

She couldn't speak a word of English and was solely dependent upon strangers who were smuggling her along on this journey.  Once she landed in LA she was picked up by a city bus that carried her to an area close to skid row in downtown LA.  Dumped onto the street she was handed a set of scribbled instructions. Instructions which led her to an apartment.  An apartment where familiar speaking displaced Indonesians were currently living.  They worked during the day at a restaurant and at night would sleep in the makeshift apartment behind the restaurant.  A place she described as pure filth and disgust.  As many as 20 workers at a time would sleep huddled and crowded on a cement floor. Buckets were used instead of indoor plumbing and water was sparingly carried in daily from the restaurant. 

Work  would usually begin at 5am and continue until midnight or later.  Each worker would be paid only a dollar per day and were allowed 2 meals from the restaurant.  Meals which she said were spoiled, impermissible foods and mushy bruised vegetables unfit for paying clientele. One of Hana's duties once a week was walking to the neighborhood market to buy vegetables for the restaurant. During her market excursions, she began to learn English by reading the signs above the produce aisles. Lettuce, cabbage and carrots were among the first English words she mastered.  A slow process, but Hana was determined.  Learning was looked down upon and heavily dissuaded by her handlers, so she kept her new English word discoveries a secret.

As months went by, Hana heard more rumors.  Rumors about better (nicer) people who would pay a bit more per hour for illegal workers.  She took a very dangerous and risky gamble as she and a few others hopped a bus.  Again, no clue where she was headed, but hopefully to better circumstances than the one she was leaving behind on the dangerous streets of LA.  The weather became steadily colder as they traveled from the west coast farther east, a detail that she had not prepared for as she was dressed in only a t-shirt and worn jeans, the only clothes she owned. As the Greyhound traveled on  she eventually saw the signs reading Colorado.  What was Colorado?  She had no idea.  She had no knowledge of U.S. geography or even the concept of states.  As the bus pulled over for her stop, she saw a white van.  A white van driven by a strange man who would take her to her new destination. Another restaurant where she would labor away for pennies a day. However, this place paid 2 more dollars a day and was rumored to be a better, safer environment.  

Upon arrival, she was happy to see much larger living quarters and fewer people to sleep on the floor. A hardwood floor with no furniture, but she thought this already seemed better.  Her hopes were quickly dashed upon realizing the new apt had no heat and no hot water. Winters, which she still describes as one of the most brutal experiences of her lifetime, were unbearably cold. She developed a reoccurring sickness during those winters.  An illness she now knows to be severe bouts of pneumonia brought on my ice cold showers.  A fact she discovered to be true many years later after several doctors, lung x rays and ongoing bronchial issues. She endured three Colorado winters of hard labor without heat or hot water in sub zero temperatures. 

Listening to her relive these moments brought wells to my eyes, but I hid my tears from Hana.  I knew a few things about Hana and one of them was that she didn't want sympathy.  Sympathy made her feel uneasy. She didn't have time for words of pity or sadness. In fact she told her story with a smile.  The kind of  smile worn by those who have endured tragedies and overcome death defying circumstances with honor.  She spoke of her past in terms of triumph and self discovery.  You didn't have to be all that perceptive to know that she survived the adversity in her life through positive thinking and hope.  Sympathy and self pity had nothing to do with her survival.  Zero.  

She described eventually leaving Colorado and finding other work labor situations. From Austin to Florida and back to LA, there seemed to be no shortage of these hard labor style environments, some of them more conducive to helping her better herself, some completely harrowing. These sad stories were not without comic relief, as she lamented the first time she saw an electric clothes washing machine and dryer.  She had never seen this in her country as they had always washed their clothes by hand in a nearby stream.  She marveled at the first time she saw the process and kept feeding the dryer too many quarters to watch it go again and again!  She promised herself she would one day own one of her own!  

Somewhere along these journeys she taught herself conversational English.  Purchasing a tiny English language pocket handbook, she studied profusely day and night. A handbook she still carries today and refers to as the best eight dollars she ever spent.  She worked continuously to connect with other Indonesians who had successfully made the transition to American citizen. One of these connections put her in touch with an attorney. An attorney with whom, after many months of planning, she was able to meet.  The attorney told her if she could get 350.00 dollars he could help her get the paperwork she needed to start the process.  Upon this great news Hana set out to save up the money that would change her destiny!

It took five years to save 350.00.  Not five weeks, not five months, five YEARS. I still remember nearly losing my footing when she spoke those words. But true to her indelible spirit, Hana persisted. She labored, toiled and struggled through terrible  and often life threatening situations for five more years. She described the day she walked into the attorney's office with the money in hand as the day she knew her life would finally be different. After almost 10 years in the U.S. Hana would be on her way to becoming a U.S. citizen.

Her first job as a U.S. Citizen was at a Macy's.  She was hired as a seasonal Christmas wrapping employee.  She wrapped presents all day and carried her trusty English language pocket handbook along.  She spoke of how amazing it felt to get that first paycheck.   $7.50 an hour!  An amount which would have taken a solid 12 hour day work week  to obtain before.

Hana never looked back.  She used every single day of her new career as a ladder to success.  She took every single opportunity as a personal invitation to freedom.  She worked tirelessly and sincerely and successfully until she went from seasonal wrapping employee to department manager at Macy's.  Hana saved her money and paid her own way through college.  Obtaining a degree in Business, she eventually left Macy's for bigger luxury retail opportunities and soon worked her way into an upper level management position with a six figure income.  

"I have seen the darkest recesses of the human spirit and I have witnessed the most beautiful generosity and opportunities this country has to offer. I believe in the beauty of America."  Hana

Before, I had only  known Hana as a pretty, flawless faced girl who drove the brand new black Porsche in our employee parking garage and carried a different CHANEL handbag everyday to work. The poster girl for career success.  The girl with the unfaltering commitment to customer service. The girl with the unstoppable work ethic. 

Now I know her as one of the greatest inspirations of my life.

Love One Another

Hepburn Hugs & Ric Ocasek Dreams

xo

Birdee Bow