The voice was cheery. “Xxx Aviation Insurance!”. You could hear the exclamation point. For many years, she answered the phone with the same cheerful tone. As my business with them increased, and my travels spread, she would conspiratorially whisper “Are you in the Witness Protection Program?” when I would call from a landline number that wasn’t familiar. My cell number would get an enthusiastic greeting by name.
Details were tiny “whack-a-moles” to be dealt with.
These were ambushed successfully, quickly, and flawlessly. Many times she would track down a number, deal with a problem, get the message to the right person quickly. As far as I know, she never aspired to more than the “front desk” job…but she was a bright, friendly voice each time. I never saw her anywhere but behind that desk, efficiently doing her job.
Not long ago, I made a visit in person. A new person was in her chair. The boss quietly told me she had inoperable cancer. He had graciously continued her paycheck, and sent her home to be with her family.
Two days ago, her boss called me. Becky had passed away in the night.
Becky, in the years I knew you, you never spoke a cross word to me.
You gave me a gift. The gift of kindness.