I am not always the Banana Lady. In fact, when my alarm goes off early in the morning and I climb out of bed into the darkness, my alter ego seems a million miles away. I make my son breakfast, kiss my husband goodbye, and hop a train for downtown. The only thing giving me away is the contents of my satchel. Buried deep underneath my newspaper, snuggled next to my breath mints and tube of lipstick, are the Banana Lady’s special black undergarments. They could easily be mistaken for yoga clothes.
There is always some limbering up to do in preparation, which can take the form of some quick toe-touches in an elevator or a calf stretch on the edge of a curb. Then, out of public view, I slip into the suit and try to get centered. I know from experience that there are going to be a few people having bad days out there and I want to be prepared. I step out and slyly assess the situation at hand.

Take for example last Tuesday. I'm standing in the lobby of an office building early in the morning handing out bananas as people are arriving for work. We all know that it’s normal for some people to be grumpy in the morning, but I've discovered that there are really two types of a.m. grumpiness. The first, which is pretty innocuous, is the “I Don’t Want To Deal With Humans” type. These are the people who will ignore you as you’re trying to look them in the eye and say good morning. It stings a little, but it’s no big deal, I am paid to have water-off-a-duck’s-back superpowers. They simply walk right past the Banana Lady as if she is just another fixture in the building, and not some middle-aged mom earning an extra buck by handing out complimentary fruit. When these types blow me off, it’s easy to let out a self-conscious little laugh and move on. The other type of grumps I encounter, not as easy.

These are the miserable people, the ones having a hard time. The people who almost seem to enjoy insulting the banana. I only get one or two per job at the most, and that’s out of hundreds of interactions, but I can usually muster a cheery comment in response.

Me: Good morning! Would you like a banana? There’s a health fair in your building today from 11 to 2.
Them: (Sneering) I hope you’re getting paid well for that. (Muttering) Embarrassing.
Me: I love my job! I do it for free so I can meet nice people like you!

Note: There can be no trace of sarcasm in your voice whatsoever when you say this or the entire effect is ruined. You need to sincerely convey that you do indeed love your job, thereby giving them pause to consider whether they like theirs.

A few months ago, however, I found myself momentarily at a loss for words.

I was at a downtown San Francisco office building doing my usual morning routine. Erin, the Fruit Guys marketing director was with me, dressed in a strawberry suit. (Erin looks extra great as the strawberry because she has flaming red hair.) Working with her is a blast because she’s got a serious goofy streak, plus she always makes sure we have plenty of coffee to drink.

Anyway, there was a woman approaching us. She was probably in her late 40s, very well put-together, holding an enormous coffee cup. I could barely get out my greeting when she looked at me with an expression of such pure revulsion that I thought there must be something gnarly hanging out of my nose.

She stopped, looked me up and down, and spat, “You couldn’t pay me enough to do that job!”

Maybe I should have just laughed and let her walk away, but something told me I might be able to cheer her up. I stepped onto the escalator behind her. She glanced back at me and I thought I detected a little smile.
“Hi,” I said, stepping up next to her.

“Actually, the banana gets paid pretty well.” For some reason, I liked the way it sounded when the banana referred to itself in the third person. She turned slightly and nodded in my direction, still not sure about making eye contact. But the corners of her mouth were turning up.

“I’m sure when you bought your coffee this morning, you didn’t say that same thing to the person who made it for you, right? You probably wouldn’t say it to the security guard here, or your taxi driver.”

We were reaching the top of the escalator and now she was looking directly at me. Her expression had softened.

“You’re right,” she said, as we stepped off. “I’m really sorry. I’m just having a bad day.”
“That’s okay,” I told her. I hadn’t wanted to make her feel bad. I just wanted to bring something to her attention. “It’s really no big deal. The banana is not bruised.” I twirled around to prove it.

She told me to have a good day and walked off toward the elevators. I made a U-turn, heading back down to the lobby, not sure if I had overstepped my boundaries by getting a little personal. Hopefully, I could get my groove back.

“Hey!” I heard a man shout excitedly from the floor below. He was looking up at me and waving. “There’s a banana on our escalator!”

I lifted the bunch of bananas over my head like a trophy and started walking toward him. Maybe he wanted to dance.