Acknowledgments

Lessons from the cosmetic counter

Photo by Marcelo Moreira: https://www.pexels.com/photo/cosmetics-makeup-brushes-and-powder-dust-explosion-1926620/

I love words, but some just grate on me.

When I think of uptight, stodgy words, ‘acknowledgments’ is right up there. I don’t even like the way it feels in my mouth and it’s certainly not one of the more attractive words in print.

And its meaning? It’s like the fancy version of noticing—it’s more than a glance, far less than lauding. It’s just—

Acknowledging.

Years ago I worked for Estée Lauder as the regional promotions director for Northern California. Various stores would host special events and we’d bring in a group of expert makeup artists. Often, there would be a crowd at the counter, with people waiting two and three deep. I coached the makeup artists to focus on their customers, to make each person feel like she was the only one in the room.

And yet, the people waiting deserved notice, too.

I also asked the artists to take a quick moment to look at the next person in line, make eye contact, smile, and say, “I’ll be right with you.”

Because words matter, it was important to acknowledge them verbally. That quick touchpoint said, “I recognize your presence, I see you, and I value you. And when I finish with this person, I’m going to give you the same degree of attention.”

For most of us, that’s all we want: to be acknowledged. To be seen, heard, and valued, even if it’s for a split second. We want to know that we matter.

I just sent off the final manuscript for my first novel to the layout artist. I waited until the last minute to write the Acknowledgments page, because I wanted to be certain whom to thank. After a great deal of reflection, I settled on the few people who truly made a difference in my life, whether by encouraging me or critiquing my writing. I wrote out each person’s thank you with a laser focus—the others had to wait at the imaginary counter until I was finished, although I gave them a quick smile to let them know they would get their turn.

And when they did, I acknowledged them. I specifically shared what they’d done that made me a better writer, that pushed the book to be more compelling. Some of them were responsible for actually getting the book out—without their encouragement, I would have simply given up months ago. Each person deserved my complete attention as I acknowledged them.

I imagine some of them will be surprised to see their names and to learn of the profound effect they had on me, my writing, and the book in general. I hope each of them will be pleased.

But it made me wonder: why do I need to write a novel to tell people what they mean to me, to express how much I appreciate them, how their very presence blesses my life? Whether the lack stems from laziness or thoughtlessness or cluelessness, I’ve been convicted by the need to do more…acknowledging.

Who needs you to acknowledge them? Who needs to experience the life-enhancing notion that they are seen, heard, and valued? Is it a significant other, a child, a parent, a sibling, or a friend? Perhaps it’s a co-worker or that barista who perfectly blends your latte each morning. I’m convinced we are surrounded by people who yearn to be acknowledged.

So I’m making it a priority. Nothing syrupy or fake, nothing cavalier or forced. Genuine, sincere acknowledgments that let other human beings know I see, hear, and value them. In this harsh, often self-absorbed world of ours, can we spare a moment for this gift?

I haven’t found a good synonym for acknowledgment, so I’ll continue to use it until I do. And in the spirit of gratitude, let me say that I acknowledge you, dear reader. You inspire me to write each week, sharing my thoughts with people I may never meet in person. I see you, I hear you, and I deeply value you.

Pass it on.