Member-only story
I Have to Forgive You
I Have No Choice
I work behind the circulation desk at a small suburban library. While most of our patrons are lovely, considerate people. some of them are anything but. While attempting to help the public, I’ve been yelled at, cursed at and called every rude name in the book.
From the 8-year-old who snarled “Bitch!” when I told him that he couldn’t eat popcorn in the stacks to the elderly gent who howled “I wish a malignancy on you!” when I broke the news that he couldn’t check out any more DVDs until he paid his hefty fines.
And I have forgiven them all.
Why?
I’m face blind. I am unable to recognize people. No matter how awful you were to me the last time you came to the library, when I see your face again I won’t remember that last toxic encounter.
Face blindness is real. There’s even a Latin name for it. Prosopagnosia. There’s a part of the brain (the fusiform gyrus) that is devoted to facial recognition. If you have Proso, that part of your brain doesn’t work.
