Chapter 4-Rise and Fall of the Clackers

A few weeks ago I made a return visit to the Department of Social Services (DSS) office. I had to turn in my "proof of income" or as I like to call it "proof of no income". Everyone in the office was very nice. It was easy, peasy, lemon-squeezy. I exited the office and immediately noticed someone close behind me. The only way I could tell was by the sound. Clack, clack, clack, clack

I was being trailed by a Clacker. You know...a Clacker.

Clacker (noun) a woman, usually career-oriented, who wears shoes or boots with medium to high heels that make a distinctive, audible noise or "clack" on non-carpeted surfaces. Often used in the negative to denote women who attempts to intimidate other people (usually subordinates or co-workers) by exaggerating the noise the shoe or boot makes (the "clack").

I walked down the tiled hall...clack, clack, clack...down a flight of stairs...clack, clack, clack...through the uncarpeted foyer...clack, clack, clack...across one parking lot...clack, clack, clack...though another parking lot...clack, clack, clack...and finally I reached my car. The clacking takes a distinct left and stops when the Clacker reaches her car. There was a brief moment where I thought the Clacker was going to overtake me. I quickened my pace several times, but each time the Clacker quickened hers as well. Needless to say, this whole ordeal left me shaken and more than a little...jealous.

I used to be a Clacker. For the 16 years I worked at the City I was a Clacker. No, I was the Clacker, Uber-Clacker, Head Clacker in Charge. Why walk softly and carry a big stick when you can wear medium to high heel shoes or boots and make that wonderful, seductive, hypnotizing clack on every non-carpeted surface in the building? Some people are all crepe soles and surprise visits. Me? I'm all about announcing my arrival. Heck, I'm all about announcing my approach and my departure. Announcing it with a satisfying clack. I loved the sound of a good clack in the morning. It sounded like victory.

Now I'm just a tennis shoe wearer. Just like all the millions of tennis shoe wearers. Unwittingly skulking around and hating it. No one knows when I'm at the door. No one knows when I'm leaving the area. I can sneak up on people, but where's the fun in that? Really people, there's a reason why the armies wear boots that clack. Clackers inspire awe and sometimes fear. But maybe I'm giving too much credit to a sound a shoe makes. It just occurred to me that the only person who really understood the power behind clacking was me.
I was intimidated by the Clacker at the DSS office because that's how I wanted other people to feel when I was a Clacker. I was somehow above it all because I wore heels in a "flats" friendly office. I wanted to intimidate people with my heavy footfalls. I mourned when we moved from an office building that was almost entirely tile to a newer building with twice as much carpet. It was my own insecurity that led me to become a Clacker.

I was at a hospital the other day visiting a friend. I had come from a visitation so I was a little dressed up. I was wearing medium to high heeled boots and the hospital was exclusively tiled. The clack was deafening. I kept walking on my tiptoes because I couldn't stand everyone looking at me as I passed. For once, I wanted to be unnoticed. Not so I could sneak in for a surprise attack, but because the situation wasn't about me. I wanted the hospital staff to be concentratng on my friend, not my clacking. And I think that means I'm a little more mature than I was the last time I wore my boots. A little more mature and a lot less noisy.

Chapter 3-Jesus in my Inbox

Every year about this time I get a "forward" in my Inbox concerning "Putting Christ back in Christmas" or "Jesus is the Reason for the Season." Now that I'm unemployed I actually have time to read all the "forwards" I get. This year the forward had to do with saying "Merry Christmas" not "Happy Holidays". Because I know so many unbelieving retail store clerks have been saved by some well-meaning Christian saying "Merry Christmas" and not "Happy Holidays".


Let me stop here and say that I love Jesus. He is my personal savior and I believe he died for my (and everyone else's) sins. I just want to remind all these "Merry Christmas" types that there is a thing called a "silent witness". You know,that pesky little idea that how we act speaks louder than than the things we say?


This has been on my mind since I visited San Diego in 2005. I remember thinking, "Wow, California is so progressive, I've got to remember to say 'Happy Holidays', not 'Merry Christmas'. I don't want to offend anyone." So I said "Happy Holidays" to everyone and got a "Merry Christmas" back from most. I took a Christmas Eve dinner cruise and needed a cab when it ended. I walked to the cab stand and a cab came almost immediately. The driver was a very nice fellow and he engaged me from the moment I got into the cab. He asked if I enjoyed the cruise, how was the food, how I liked San Diego...all the small talk topics that make a cab rides go faster. When he asked me how I liked San Diego I told him about how surprised I was that so many people said, "Merry Christmas" and not "Happy Holidays". We talked a little bit about how the coasts are different than the Midwest and how San Diego was particularly tolerant about the differences between people.


He asked me if I was a Christian and I told him yes. He said that he was Muslim, but he had many Christian friends. He asked if I celebrated Christmas and I told him I did. I was leaned up in my seat so I could hear him over the road noise. He said, very clearly, "I hope you have a very Merry Christmas." I actually teared up. I told him that was a very thoughtful thing to say, especially because it's not a holiday he celebrated. He said, "I don't celebrate it, but I want those who do to have a wonderful time." I told him I hoped that he had a wonderful holiday time and was able to spend time with his family and friends. As I paid him he thanked me for talking to him during the ride. I smiled and squeezed his hand.


I walked into my hotel and took the elevator up to my room. I changed out of my dress clothes and into my pjs. I got into bed and thought, "If I were a seeker, I'd want to be a part of that guy's religion." The cab driver wasn't obligated to wish me a Merry Christmas or a Happy Holiday or any type of parting remark at all. He spoke the Merry Christmas from his heart. Speaking from the heart, honestly and transparently is what makes a faith, any faith attractive.

That was 4 years ago. I have no idea what the cab driver's name was or even what he looked like. He could be standing right in front of me and I would never know. What I do remember is a Muslim man who taught me alot about Christianity. And about the Christian walk and about our silent witness. Shoving "Merry Christmas" in the face of anyone who will listen is not much of a silent witness. I want people to celebrate who they are. I want to know more about their lives and their faith. I want to wish people a Happy Holiday, whatever their holiday is, and mean it sincerely. I want people to feel the reason for the season without me wearing a button or saying a word.