Example 1.

Earlier this month we had what passes for a heat wave around here. We also had some massive crowd assembly events with a whole new level of visitors to town. (Just one of the events attracted over three million [= 3,000,000+] tourists for several weeks.) It made for delayed and unusually crowded travel.

Luckily, in this particular city there is a profoundly endearing custom among bus passengers. First, everybody at a stop waiting to board will step aside and wait for the person with the pregnancy / extra decades of longevity / wheelchair / shopping cart / baby carriage / walker / guide dog / to board first, AND to have top priority for seating. Then it becomes Dueling Politeness, with one passenger after another deferring to the next person who needs the seat even more. It’s amazing.

On that July day under an uncharacteristically hot sun, for a good half hour, we were all stopped cold in traffic with personal wheeled conveyances and parcels and puzzled pets. In typical charming fashion, people kept shuffling themselves around and climbing over each other to give up their seats to the next guy. What’s more, the driver was unusually welcoming, calling out greetings and goodbyes as each person boarded or stepped off. Operating a large bus in traffic while dealing with passengers is a tough job and at times a hazardous one, but his good nature definitely kept a civil lid on an otherwise quite tedious commute. Then Presto, a pair of Pomeranian dogs popped out from under a seat with shy gentle sniffs, and people took turns giving them pats on their little heads while plying their proud owner with compliments and questions about her doglets.

And then, our local library enthusiast comes on board. This sweet lady is like me a twice-daily subscriber to this bus route. Whenever we pass the local library, she strikes up eager conversations with the rest of us. Say, how about that library there? Can just anybody become a member? How about me? How much does it cost to join? To check out a book? To sit on one of the chairs and read? To use a computer? Can they help me find my book on the shelf? For a while now we passengers have been enthusing at her that libraries are free thanks to Ben Franklin, that ours just put in air conditioning this past year, that she should just go right on in and set a spell, that the librarians will be happy to see her, that the librarians are so welcoming that they call up their elderly patrons who live at home alone, to make sure that they are okay. At first on earlier trips I participated in the discussion, but after a few rounds decided that maybe the library is just a nice conversation piece for her, since it seemed underlikely that she has never set foot in one. After that on subsequent trips I’ve stayed out of the conversation because everyone else was having such a pleasant time telling her about the library themselves.

Well, tonight is different. As the sweet lady boards the bus with her packages and breathes a sigh of contentment accepting my offered seat, she recognizes me. “Why, it’s you!” she exclaims. “YOU were the one who first told me all about THE LIBRARY! You were so right. I did it! I went in! The librarians were so kind. They are brilliant. They have all the answers, and what a good help they are. Yes, I go in now all the time.” She is absolutely radiant about it. It’s a contagious spirit, in a good way. While patting Pomeranians on the head we all of us beam back at her and offer our congratulations. (On trips since then she’s kept thanking, with fresh stories of how one of these gifted librarians have assisted her. I’m stopping by there tomorrow to let them know.)

Finally we reach my corner. As the driver and I wave goodbye I hop off, then stop to jot down the route and carriage number and time of day, and at home go straight to the bus company website to enter a commendation for the driver’s personnel file. His good nature and good manners helped make this everyday experience a positive one.

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Example 2.

It’s early morning, and a local sports pub isn’t open yet. But one of the young wait staff is outside, and gives me a friendly cheerful greeting. She’s there with a broom to sweep the sidewalk. But first she does something extra: she crouches down, and starts chipping and scooping moss and small weeds out of the cracks in the sidewalk along the curb. It’s unusual to see such a young person doing such a careful job.

So I step over to the door and ask to speak to the owner. After a minute he appears, looking vigilant and wary. “I couldn’t help noticing what a careful job your team member is doing. She’s really tidying up that sidewalk,” I tell him. “It really makes a nice difference on the property, and helps set a good tone for the street.”

He looks pleased, and in turn he shares with me his view of how important it is, to pay attention to little details like this around the pub and to encourage good morale among the staff. I’m not planning to be a customer at his sports pub, but it’s nice to hear a business owner’s view and exchange good wishes.

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Example 3.

Mr. K. has been crafting the most precise affirming haircuts for me for years. In the past there have been young stylists who expressed deep existential unhappiness about cutting gray hair on some Boomer who strolls in with her khaki scrubs and backpack of groceries. That work ethic lost them a loyal admirer who tips at 100% for a good respectful job.

I was apprehensive about trying this basic little business in a small shopping mall, where most of the customers are male college students zipping in for a quick trim. But Mr. K. treats me like royalty, investing maximum thought and technique in every cut. He always finishes with a flourish before the big mirror, handing me a small mirror and then slowly turning the chair so I can see all sides. Fashion is a minor slice of my radar, but every time I of course make a whole fuss in recognition of his beautiful work.

This time on my tip envelope, I added the following illustration of my glamor shot before, and after a Mr. K. special cut. I showed the drawing to Mr. K. and his boss, and they shared a good laugh. It was touching to see that this good craftsman clearly valued the envelope more than the tip inside.

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Example 4.

City inspection day. We tenants all receive a preparatory announcement, and several pages of specifications on how to prepare our apartments. In turn I type up a short paragraph of items in the unit that could use attention at some point; that way the inspectors can take the sheet with them.

On inspection day I’m right there to show them around and answer any questions. The three of them listen to me with care, thank me for the tip sheet, and are impeccably courteous. (All of this is duly noted in my followup commendation email to their management team.) One inspector warmly compliments my collection of snail shells on the windowsill. “They were empty, in the food compost bin, from someone’s meal,” I explain to her. “They smelled terrible too. But I picked them up out of the garbage. They needed to be boiled for quite a while in six changes of baking soda solution.”

I scoop up half the shells (Why only half? Because I need the other half of them for an upcoming talk), and present them to her. She’s thrilled! After the inspection and before the group leaves, she explains to me that with pollution, temperature changes, and dilution of seawater due to rising water levels, it is more difficult now for sea creatures to gather the right minerals to grow healthy shells. “I collect shells at garage sales and thrift shops and as gifts,” she explains. “Then in my travels I swim out to where the different shells come from, and I set them back in the water for some other creature to live in, and for the minerals to return to the sea.” I suggest that this sounds like a very Hawai’ian philosophy. “Yes it is!” she says, delighted. For our group, an ordinary apartment inspection becomes an uplifting conversation about nature and spirit.

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Example 5.

For years my best shoe option has been used sneakers from Goodwill, with soft mesh tops in men’s extra-large clown sizes. Two years ago my new sports medicine podiatrist prescribed a visit to the local specialty vendor of walking/running shoes. They carry top of the line brands for maximum mobility and comfort. At that time I dutifully showed up and tried on many shoes presented to me by a Mr. R., a sales associate with stolid patience. But that lengthy visit ended with me giving up in defeat. No shoe had a high enough toe box for my feet.

It took quite a while to work up the nerve to go back to that store and try again, but I finally did. Here’s the upshot. I printed it up and delivered this to the store manager this week for his reading pleasure.

Dear [Store Name],

Your team was very hospitable today during a slightly unusual shoe mission visit prescribed by the N___ Sports Medicine Clinic. In the store all of your staff greeted me right away, but also assured me that I could take all the time needed to browse around among the shoe styles until I was ready to consult with someone.

Honestly, I was reluctant to return to your store, thinking “Gee, I sure hope it’s not the same patient salesperson who assisted me two years ago, when no matter how many models we tried we couldn’t find a shoe to accommodate my hurting feet. I hope it’s not the same sales associate.”

It was the same sales associate. Fortunately, Mr. R. either didn’t remember me from 1,000 customers ago, or was still willing to help. He was extra-supportive and respectful, listening carefully to all my foot woes (rheumatoid arthritis, bone troubles, bla bla). He went above and beyond in search of the right shoe with a high enough toe box. To accommodate my unique pain points he strategized with me on a number of shoe models and assisted me with trying them on and testing them. He listened carefully to my impressions, he carefully assessed the reasons why each model was not quite a match for the foot condition, he explained to me the advantages of various styles and sizes. He did not look annoyed, and he did not give up. He brought me one solution after another, and I tried them all on. But finally I had to confess: the worn down pair of Goodwill clown shoes that brought me to the store were the option that caused the least pain!

But then – magic. Mr. R. went that extra extra step! With a terrific idea!

He brought out a pair of CADENCE Ex+MP insoles with built-in metatarsal pads. Then he even diagnosed the suitability and comfort of that pair, AND went back and chose a different and ideal pair. Golly!! The comfort improvement was just remarkable. Now I wear them all day. Where have these been all my life?

So ok, today I ended up buying no shoes. But I did buy $120 of insoles plus extra metatarsal pads and came away very happy with the visit.

Mr. R.’s careful listening, informed advice, patience, and resourcefulness at finding a solution has won me over as a permanent customer. I’ll keep coming back for sure, to keep stocked with in-shoe supplies.

From discouragement, to walking on clouds. What a happy ending.

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All day long, we’re surrounded by people who are really just doing their jobs — bus drivers, wait staff, hair stylists, city inspectors, shoe salesmen. They really are the salt of the earth. Whenever our paths cross, they deserve real recognition and a word of thanks for them and for their employer. What hobby is cheaper and more fun?