Service in the Check-out Line

We are moving, just half a mile away but it entails every bit as much work as if we were relocating to Alaska. Gather boxes from every place I can think of between work and home, agree to disagree with my husband about furniture placement with what stays and what goes, try to get the kids to understand this move is for real and if they don't pack it doesn't go. In the middle of it all, I'm starting a new summer school job, Bob's son Cameron graduated from high school and looking for something to do, three teenagers are either in camp or leaving for camp this week. Oh, and it's Father's Day tomorrow.

I made a quick escape this afternoon to first get some gifts at Nordstrom Rack, and then some groceries for Father's Day breakfast-in-bed, and evening barbecue. The stereo speakers were blaring at The Rack and I tried to stay focused. The check-out line was deep and to be expected for a pre-holiday when all the women seemed to be picking out even more from the ladie's department than the men's. One teenager called her mom from her cell phone, "Mom, I just don't care enough about these things to wait in this line--it's pretty frustrating." I think she decided to come back another day. Another woman kept inching into my space in the queue. I tried to give her a friendly look as a patient reminder of personal space; it worked I think but I don't know how friendly it really was.

As my turn approached at the front of the line, a delicate Asian woman dressed in a plum silk suit walked right past me and stood next to a cashier. I was sure she wanted to put something on hold, but at The Rack you have to wait in line for that, too--at least I always do. With the loud music pounding and the impending stress of this week's move on my mind, I nearly snapped something like, "Excuse me, but we all have to wait in line." But lately I've given way to pushy people, since we are all fighting a hard battle and sometimes we should let the other guy (or girl) get ahead. As the next cashier flagged me over to her booth I quietly walked past the impatient woman to see that it was my soon-to-be ex next-door neighbor! Boy, was I relieved that had kept my cool...

The next stop was Trader Joe's, and again the pre-Father's Day lines were discouraging. I often seem to choose the slowest line, but this store and Costco are really good about opening up extra check stands. When an additional checker came along and invited the next customer, it was finally my turn. But a woman in the next lane complained that it should be her turn. Ugh, I didn't really feel like being sweet about this one. The checker must have read my mood, and she changed the tone by making pleasant conversation with about my weekend, the move, the kids, and dinner tonight. A bagger about my age joined and made jokes about their "masters degrees" in bagging and checking efficiency. We all laughed and I was thankful for people who can turn my frustration with checkout lines into a light moment. Their act of service required so little effort, I'm sure they won't remember how they affected this pre-Father's Day shopping experience. As soon as I wheeled away, I heard the same friendly conversation with the next customer. Service is just part of their demeanor. This time, I picked the perfect line to brighten my day, and it was worth the wait.

Thank You: The Ripple Effect

Drop a pebble in the water: just a splash, and it is gone;
But there’s half-a-hundred ripples circling on and on and
on,
Spreading, spreading from the center, flowing on out to the
Sea.
And there is no way of telling where the end is going to
be.

Drop a word of cheer and kindness: just a flash and it is
Gone;
But there’s half-a-hundred ripples circling on and on and
on.
Bearing hope and joy and comfort on each splashing,
dashing wave
Till you wouldn’t believe the volume of the one kind
word you gave.

Drop a word of cheer and kindness: in a minute you forget;
But there’s gladness still a-swelling, and there’s joy
a-circling yet,
And you’ve rolled a wave of comfort whose sweet music can
be heard
Over miles and miles of water just by dropping on kind
word.

~James W. Foley

Monday evening I sat down to write and discovered a writer’s worst nightmare: I didn’t have anything to say. Though I was in a happy mood, I couldn’t think of a single good deed or act of kindness observed from the day’s events. Then I remembered the first thirty minutes of the morning. I arrived at work and checked to find out who were those responsible for a wonderfully elaborate, decorative, and entertaining dinner party/baby shower we had all attended on Friday night. I sat down to shoot off an email to let them know of my appreciation, but I was too late. One of the hostesses, “party-planner Jenny,” who had worked many hours to plan and execute the affair, beat us to the keyboard: “Thanks for making Friday night and Kim's baby shower so wonderful. I thank you each for your contribution to the party, for your participation and for your good cheer. It really was an extra beautiful party and fun had by all. We are a great team.”

I thought Jenny had dedicated enough of her time to planning this event that we should not only give her thanks, but maybe even an extra day off. Here she was first thing Monday morning thanking the guests, most of us who simply brought a dish to share. I hurried to get a word in: “I sincerely appreciate all of your work to provide a wonderful evening on Friday night for Kim's shower. I enjoyed celebrating the pending arrival, and I especially appreciated a chance to get out and to be in the company of so many interesting and wonderful people in our department. Thanks for your generosity!”

Minutes later, Alice, the gracious provider of a museum-quality venue (and who undoubtedly the one who stayed up late cleaning up after we went home), added her words: “The party wouldn't have been what it was without all your help! What a great combination...yummy food, fab flowers, sweet decorations, delish desserts, great games, pretty cute and educational presents, and good old-fashioned fun. We missed those that couldn't come and appreciate their additions, too.” Within one hour of the week starting, we were in the midst of a “thank you shower,” and it was fun!

The notes of gratitude continued from Jacquie: “My sincerest thanks to the organizers of the event...and what an event it was!” Then Margo chimed in: “Thanks to YOU Alice for the great hosting - your house is lovely and it felt like dinner at a fine restaurant - thanks to all for such great food. Thanks also to Sandra for organizing the fun games (no thanks to Susan for being such a trivia whiz!) and special thanks to Kim for giving us such a fun reason to celebrate!”

While studying at John Robert Powers finishing school as a teenager, I was taught that we should always send thank you notes within twenty-four hours of receiving a gift or after having been hosted for a meal in someone’s home. I have procrastinated my expressions of gratitude many times in the past due my inability to slow down in the fast lane of life. These ladies have all taught me, and continue to remind me, of the kind deeds that can have a ripple effect like the pebble in the water. Putting a party together was their gift to me; the ripples of good will continue in our department as we share in the spirit of thanks.

What's the Rush?

I think my mom would say I was born to worry and hurry. I've always put too much pressure on myself to overachieve, whether or not there is a payoff. For some strange reason I've felt the need to go faster and try harder. I left work on Friday afternoon with quite a few errands to run, all before a dinner party which was to start at 5:30 p.m. In my typical fashion, I had the post-it note in hand and the two-hour time window to finish four hours of running around. The rest of the valley must have all felt the same way, because everywhere I went there was a traffic jam, from Costco, back to the school, to the post office, then the grocery store and home to get ready and make a special salad for the party.

Maybe you had a relaxing afternoon on Friday. If so, send me some pointers. At Costco, I felt trapped in the parking lot due a blocked intersection and pedestrians in the middle of the lane. I was twenty minutes late to pick up the girls after choosing to go the wrong way--right into a construction zone on the main drag. I dropped off the girls then tried to quickly finish the errands, but of course, more traffic. By the time I made it to the post office, I realized I only had one hour to pick up mail (after waiting in line!), purchase supplies at the market and make the salad, and then freshen up for the party. A wave of anxiety washed over me. There was no way to succeed this afternoon; I had once again taken on too much in too little time.

As I quickly leafed through the mail stack, several others waited to use the new "APC," or automated postal center, the self-service machine for mailing packages. There was a woman who seemed uncomfortable with this new method and she needed to ask for help. She and I both sensed the next customer breathing down her back, ready to leap at her turn. Then the confused lady surprised me in a very kind way, reminding me that life doesn't need to be so frantic all the time. She stepped aside and looked at the hurried woman with her bundle, "Why don't you go ahead? I can tell you're in a hurry and it's going to take me awhile." She wasn't giving the second customer a guilt trip; her sincerity was apparent. The lady sounded a little uneasy but replied, "Are you sure? Well, thank you very much." She processed her package and was out the door in minutes.

There were at least three people affected in this instance between the two customers and myself. It slows us down when someone gives us their place in line, even if we are being a little less than polite. And those in the room notice both behaviors for better or worse. The gentle woman changed my demeanor from frantic to subdued, as I contemplated how many of us often go faster than we should during the day. Feeling as if I had just taken a muscle relaxant or something, I proceeded to the grocery store in search of shrimp and avocados

I neared the intersection before the market, and an elderly couple shuffled through the crosswalk, the woman's arm linked through her partner's as if holding him up. I stopped to let them across, and a white Yukon revved it's engine behind me suggesting, "Green light, let's go!" I felt a sense of awe and reverence for this couple while pausing to observe. As I inched forward, the Yukon screamed through the light to let me know I had held him up. I didn't care, I had switched from hyper-speed to stop-and-smell-the-roses.

Thankfully, the sense of anxiety I had felt earlier did not return as I grabbed the groceries and returned home. All in good time, the salad was made, makeup reapplied, clothes changed, and I picked up my co-worker to drive to our party. She had a hectic afternoon as well, so we arrived a little late. As our hostess opened the door to greet us, I thought of the APC customer who gave way to another, and of the sweet ninety-year-olds crossing the street. Instead of feeling stressed out at being late again, I could not help but smile as I joined my friends in a carefree celebration of a pending baby's arrival. Thanks to one small act today, my outlook was changed. Life is good.

Cool Service Tips:
Want to switch from hyper-speed to stop-and-smell the roses?

• Leave a flower on a friend's car or doorstep. (Important: never tell who did it.)
• Make a conscious attempt to hold the door open for the person ahead of you or behind you, even if it takes an extra few seconds. (Remember to smile, or this will backfire.)
• Go ahead and give the other car plenty of room to merge in front of you. (It's not a race.)

I'm not an expert, but these things all worked last time I tried them... Bina

Move Over, Range Rover!

Sometimes Good Works are the intentional kind, where we set out to volunteer our time or talents to further a cause. Without this effort from members of our communities, charitable organizations would go broke attempting to pay salaries for the jobs volunteers do. Good Works are also the subtle things we do every day, when we take a minute to think about others before ourselves. I am simply an observer of human nature on this subject, by no means an expert. I experienced a lesson of the second type on Saturday while cycling the foothills of the Santa Cruz Mountains.

As I began the ride pedaling through my favorite hangout town where I lived as a little girl, I discovered all the traffic lights were out. Drivers typically know how to handle this, by alternating stops according to custom and law. Try this on a bike, however, and the cars sometimes forget the rules also apply to us. I was relieved that I had on my obnoxious neon vest, and they kindly gave me my right-of-way. All through the town, the vehicles and pedestrians patiently navigated this inconvenience without effect. It was just another sleepy Saturday morning in the Village, and I remembered the air of civility was one of the primary reasons why this was my favorite place.

Leaving downtown and heading into the hills, I very carefully crossed the busy expressway and exhaled. I made it. The next part of the ride was a series of winding hills, past the picturesque barn and then down the “S” curve, headed for home. After the gentle drivers in town, I felt like we were all sharing the road this morning—something that doesn’t always happen on a hurried weekday. The streets leading from the barn were frequented by more bikes and dog-walkers than cars, so I confidently accelerated into the turns. Wheeeeeeeeee, just like skiing! I was careful to stay on my side of the road in order to avoid a potential catastrophe.

It turns out not everyone was in the mood to give right-of-way, as a black SUV came whizzing around the turn, crossing over the double yellow line. I praised the guardian angel that had kept me from nearing the line, and gave a big pointer-finger (no, not that finger!) to the couple in the Range Rover to remind them that they could have killed me. I hope my mom doesn’t read this or my biking days are numbered. After trying to reprimand the hurried couple, I thought how polite the drivers had been down in the valley when their stop lights weren’t working, and I considered the accidents that could have occurred if any of them had been so pushy. For all of us—you and me both—let’s remember that the goal is for everyone to reach our destinations in one piece. We’re all in this together.

Looking for a cool service project idea?

A nearby town recently launched a transportation safety campaign, distributing hundreds of "Share the Road" bumper stickers and signs. Start one in your community by ordering bumper stickers from www.cafepress.com, or designing your own at www.zazzle.com

Retail Therapy

With popular stories like "Confessions of a Shopaholic," the idea of shopping might sound therapeutic to some. When I walked into the mall with two teenagers on Saturday, I froze. I was on another planet. We set our rendezvous time and they were on their way for an hour of bargain-hunting; I stood there looking around as if I'd never seen a place like that. I've been steeped in work, with no time for malls lately. Luckily I had taken with me a bag of reading and I almost plopped myself down like the older gentlemen do, waiting for their spouses so they can go home. I realized, however, that I really did need three simple things: a watch, a coin purse, and some vitamins.

I found the watch in the first five minutes. The customer service at the store was what kept me there. The young lady behind the counter worked for twenty minutes to adjust and re-adjust the links on my new "affordable" Fossil watch as if it were a Rolex. She used her best manners and didn't seem to lose patience with this tedious job. I walked out of the store feeling like a new woman, no longer needing to carry my phone around to see the time. I grabbed the vitamins next and then ended up at the department store in search of the coin purse. I found it quickly, but as I approached the register I realized there was a line. Dread. That's when I usually give up and walk away, but the conversation I heard from the mother/daughter pair surprised me. They were praising "Cassie," the salesperson for her excellent customer service. She had a pierced lip and two bright red streaks on either side of her long dark hair. She did not look like the epitome of service, but her smile grew as these gals continued their compliments for her money-saving advice to them on how to get the best deal at check-out.

It was my turn to have the sale rung up, and Cassie was still beaming, lip ring and all, from the earlier pairs' praise. She greeted me warmly, regardless of my small purchase, and wished me a great day. I felt valued as I left the store, and I sensed that Cassie enjoyed brightening people's days just as the girl in the watch store seemed to enjoy helping people with the right fit. Customer service was a priority for those I encountered on the weekend, and when Monday rolled around the theme continued. I made a deposit Wells Fargo and they were more cheery than the weekend retail salespeople, even calling me by name. I stopped at the market to purchase milk and juice, and the checker was happy to share the excitement of his son hitting a home run! The bagger chimed in about her favorite sport and we all had an instant connection.

These are just my little daily errands, but in the space of two days I was met with so many smiles that I wondered if the world had suddenly gotten back on course. I realized that the people who were so full of kindness and pleasant manners must simply be happy people doing their jobs and feeling good about that. They didn't appear to be stressed out about their 401k plans, they were just getting by and making it nicer for those in their midst. There is enough time to worry and to be self-absorbed; believe me, I speak from hard-won experience. Some people, like the watch salesperson, Cassie, the bank teller, and the grocery store checker all work as if they understand the secret to happiness is treating others with kindness throughout each day. We can be vigilant and return these retail kindnesses by acknowledging when we see them and by sharing their contagion.

"You First."

Recently I navigated a crowded parking lot on a weekend, trying to get back out to the street along with everyone else. At an intersection in the lot, one of the four directions had a "Stop" sign, but the other three did not. One lane was full of people trying to get in and out, while the intersecting lane was a mix of some people trying to find parking stalls, and others coming or going. You can imagine the scene--chaos. We were all fighting for space. In my sometimes feisty moods, I have found myself in the push-and-shove mentality that pervades our fast-paced culture. I started to feel the irritation of the moment, but then I looked the driver across from me right in the eye and gestured, "No, you go first."

Don't get me wrong, this reaction did not come naturally or easily, but it did catch me off guard and I've been thinking about it ever since. How often do we stop worrying about rushing to the next place, to practice good manners? I witnessed this behavior today in an exemplary display of civility by our freshly sworn-in President, Barack Obama, and by his wife Michelle. No matter who any of us voted for or what he even accomplishes while in office, today was a class act.

Due to the fact that we don't have television in our home (another story for another time), I found myself racing over to the gym at 8:30am this morning to hop onto a cardio machine that was connected to a TV. Luckily for me there was one left so I didn't miss the inauguration! I'm glad I kept going on the machine after the speech, the poetry, and the prayer. The farewell was the thing to watch: the Obama's escorting the Bush's down the long White House steps to their military transport. The commentators mentioned they had never seen this before, and I'm sure they hadn't. It took the utmost degree of respect to pull this off without it looking phony or rehearsed. Who knows if it was the new administration's idea, or those staging the event; the tone was set to remind us all that politeness, courtesy, and good etiquette still matter after all.

If you missed this part, go back and see what I witnessed. The announcers reminded us that the event was now a half-hour behind schedule. The luncheon guests were standing in a hallway, waiting for the President, Vice President, and their wives to climb back up the stairs. But the four of them patiently waited for the helicopter to fire up, and for everyone to get into position for flight. It was quite a while before the helicopter took off, and then the four remaining all waved, even threw in a salute. I won't tell you my political affiliation, but I will tell you this act of civility today was proof that the "old virtues" referred to in the inaugural speech are alive at the White House, and yes, Mr. Obama, they are "true." Thank you for getting us started with Civility.