They say, “Don’t poke the bear.” But what they should really say is, “Don’t poke the pregnant, protective mama bear.”
This week, we experienced our first ever drama with another child at Nora’s daycare—and the girl’s mother. First ever, that is, if you don’t count my daughter’s six-month fixation with biting a couple years ago. Which obviously I don’t. She was teething!
Even after several weeks, Nora is still having a difficult time adjusting to her new daycare. She still gets extremely sad at drop-off, clinging to me, giving goodbye kisses to my baby bump, and in turn, repeatedly breaking my heart.
To help comfort her first thing in the morning, Nora’s teacher has been giving my daughter the blanket she typically only uses during the midday quiet time. The issue with that, however, is that the blanket is kept in a separate, locked room down the hall and the teacher has to find a chance to go fetch it every morning. As an alternative I suggested we bring in a small stuffed animal that could be kept in Nora’s cubby in her classroom. Less hassle for the teachers, I figured.
My daughter agreed to the deal and selected a small, gray beanie baby kitty that she had smuggled home from Nana’s house a while back. We brought it to school, showed the teacher, and all was well and good in the world. That is until that afternoon when the situation took an ugly, ugly turn.
My husband picked Nora up from daycare that day, a Friday. When they walked into the house, our daughter was hysterical. My husband asks, “Did she bring a cat or something to school today?” Of course I hadn’t filled him in on my master plan so he was still trying to decipher what Nora was mumbling through her tears.
I explained the situation to my husband and we figured out that a girl in the “older kid” classroom had snatched the kitty from my daughter and told everyone it was hers.
And the girl’s mom corroborated her story.
Unfortunately, I had not labeled the kitty because its tag had been cut off years prior. Lesson learned.
Right off the bat, I was p*ssed. But I wasn’t there, I didn’t hear what all parties had to say, and my husband clearly had no idea what was going on. It’s crazy how becoming a parent makes you pause and really consider how to handle a situation before acting off of impulse. So, I resigned to give those cat-nabbers the benefit of the doubt. I reassured Nora we’d get it sorted out when we went back to school and it had to be some sort of misunderstanding. She mentioned it a few times over the weekend and I acknowledged her concerns.
The first day back at school the following week I asked the teacher if she had heard about the drama. She hadn’t. And since she had already been gone for the day on Friday when the situation occurred, she wasn’t able to stand up for my daughter. The other teachers in charge at the end of the day didn’t know who the real cat-owner was. Classic she-said-she-said scenario.
The teacher said she’d talk to the girl’s mom that morning. And speak of the devil, the mom walks right into the classroom less than a minute later. Awkward. But, hey, we can all handle this like adults, right?
We mentioned the incident and the mother replies, “Well, my daughter has that same exact cat at home and it’s been missing for like three weeks. We finally found it.”
I was getting heated, “So, my daughter brought it for the first time on Friday, the same day your daughter just happened to find hers after it being lost at home for weeks? Wouldn’t it make sense that yours is still missing and that this one was ours?”
Is this real life?
Did this grown-ass woman really just steal from a three-year-old? The mom rolls her eyes at me, “Well, I guess I can look at our house again.” She leaves in a huff.
In my head, “You b*t@h a$$ m*th#r!” Pregnancy hormone rage level was at about a 9.3/10.
But I had said enough. I turned to my daughter, again cited a misunderstanding, and told her we’d all figure it out together, but informed her we might not get the cat back. A fleeting image of Nora and this girl feuding throughout their years in middle and high school crossed my mind. Is this how those lifelong vendettas that you see in teeny-bopper movies start?! Is that really a thing?
Naturally, that day after school we made a Target run and Nora got to pick out a brand-new cat (a lynx, to be precise). Which of course she wants to bring to school. Lord, help me.
In the sales and customer service world, the same principles I had attempted to apply in this situation can be applied to conflict resolution with customers:
Remain calm – Remain in control and try not to let your emotions get in the way of logical thought. Externally, I mostly achieved this one—internal dialogue doesn’t count.
Listen well – Let the angry customer tell their story and blow off steam. My daughter was given the time she needed to share her story and recall it over the next few days.
Acknowledge the problem – Repeat your understanding of the situation back to the customer. They want to be heard, just like the rest of us. Check.
Get the facts – Ask questions and get as many details as possible. Waiting to place judgement until after we spoke with all parties.
Offer a solution – After you have sufficient details, suggest a realistic solution you’re confident you can deliver on. The replacement cat.
Even if the complaint seems minor to the person trying to resolve it, like losing one of about a million stuffed animals in your collection, it’s valid to the customer. They’ll appreciate your efforts to resolve the problem and will hopefully become a loyal customer for years to come.
Marketing Like a Mother 