“Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.”―Ralph Waldo Emerson
A few days each week during the winter I work in a giant laboratory studying the behavior of vast numbers of people. My specific areas of interest are the characteristics of patience and kindness while in pursuit of happiness and outdoor adventure. More specifically, I am a greeter at a New England ski area. From this vantage point I have face-to-face contact with hundreds of men, women and children of all ages. The stories my colleagues and I collect could fill a book. (Hey, that’s an idea!)
One of a Greeter’s responsibilities, beyond welcoming guests and answering basic questions, is to be sure each visitor’s wait in the line to purchase lift tickets is as short as possible, hopefully no more that 7-15 minutes on the most crowded days. This is no mean feat in the age of data collection required for the issuance of a re-usable RFID card that can be detected by a scanner in the pocket of even the most high tech parka. We also draw the short straw sometimes and have to facilitate traffic flow in the “drop off” area. If the entire ski area is the laboratory, then this particular area is the active Petri dish. . Maybe we should put up a sign that says, “Remember! Children are watching and listening.”
If I was looking to hire people to build a team for a task that required intense, cooperative effort in a stressful situation, I’d insist on seeing videos of how these job candidates handled their cars, friends, family and Greeters in the “drop off” area. Surely I’d learn more than any resume or interview could reveal.
Since we Greeters spend most of our time managing ticket lines, that’s where the best stories come from. Just the other day a person was in such a hurry to get his ticket that instead of walking through the short, simple, ten-foot, back and forth maze to the ticket window, this “gentleman” ducked under the ropes to take a more direct route, knocking over several stanchions, which he did not fix. He may have saved a full three seconds getting to the ticket window. I just smiled at him sympathetically. You know, one of those smiles that says, “I hope you get better soon.”
We greeters pick up a wonderful assortment of sound bites or snippets from the hundreds of conversations that swirl around us. My all-time favorite came from two brothers, strolling past with their arms on each other’s shoulders. The older brother looked at his younger sibling and said, “Hey, your wife’s happy and your girlfriend’s happy. I think everything is going to be fine.” Then they disappeared into the crowd leaving me with a number of questions that will forever go unanswered.
I’ve been thinking of asking management to position a large video screen in the ticket line waiting area showing highlights of good and bad behavior of guests collected over the course of the winter season. We would obscure the faces to prevent law suits, but the instructional value would be powerful…and highly entertaining.
Most people waiting in line to purchase tickets fall into one of three categories:
Group A. “I am too important to have to wait in line with all of these other people. Can’t you do something?”
Group B. “It’s too bad the wait is so long. Have you considered ways that might make things move more efficiently?”
Group C. “I’m not at work, I’m in a beautiful place and eventually we are going to have a great day on the slopes.”
The hybrid of groups B and C is my personal favorite. By the way, guests can purchase their tickets online at a reduced price and eliminate or greatly shorten their wait in line. It’s a reward for those thoughtful people who plan ahead. Let’s call this Group S for smart.
So how does this all tie in with BESSIE’S STORY? It’s simple. Bessie is the model of patience. She’ll stand with her nose to a door calmly and peacefully if she wants to go outside. When it’s time for breakfast or dinner Bessie sits like an angel without barking, whining or grumbling. In her dark, fragrant world she somehow just knows that we’re going to do the best we can to take care of her needs. When we are going somewhere in the car she’ll hop in and sit calmly as long as necessary. Very few people can follow her example of poise and good manners. The only time Bessie ever acts or behaves as if she is the most important piece of the puzzle is when someone is playing retrieving games with her. She can be a little antsy during these times, but we understand.
I’ve said it before. The best way to make friends and influence people is to BE LIKE BESSIE. It’s not as easy as it sounds.
“My investment of time, as an educator, in my judgment, is best served teaching people how to think about the world around them. Teach them how to pose a question. How to judge whether one thing is true versus the other.” – Neil deGrasse Tyson
Bessie, Ashley and I love visiting schools. The spontaneity of the kids makes us all feel younger and more energized, especially Bessie who does not get much time around younger humans these days. Students are less reserved than adults, more open and not yet set in their ways. The fearlessness of a youthful mind is invigorating; it keeps you on your toes. You can learn quite a bit about a school’s culture and faculty by engaging with the students.
In January we visited a delightful school in a rural New Hampshire town. It was obvious as soon as the first students walked in the presentation area that the adults in this school were dedicated, empowered and fully on board with the importance of instilling confidence. Size, facilities and programs are important, but a great faculty in a small, simple school takes the prize over an average faculty in a wealthy, well-equipped school every day. It’s not even close.
Near the end of our presentation at this particular school students asked questions about Bessie. It’s a favorite part of every visit because it’s completely spontaneous and unrehearsed. A seventh-grade boy in the back row raised his hand. Anyone who has ever worked in schools knows that the back row where the seventh grade boys sit is tiger country for visiting presenters. With some experience under my belt and a little trepidation I asked the boy his name and turned him loose. Cameron’s query blew me away.
“If you could undo Bessie’s blindness, would you?” Wow! Way to go Cameron. You are between twelve and thirteen years old and are asking more interesting questions than most adults would consider. Without reflection, my initial response to Cameron was, “No. This is how Bessie’s life was destined to unfold. Coping with blindness has added new dimensions to the dog she’s become.” I’ve thought about Cameron and his question often since that January morning. I’d love to know what he’s doing fifteen years from now, where he took that active, original, deep thinking brain and how he put it to use.
Expanding on Cameron’s question leads to a dynamic discussion about do-overs. When we were kids playing games without referees or umpires, after passionate, animated disagreements, many of the most intense arguments were settled with do-overs. As we age and mature the whole idea of do-overs seems to disappear like smoke from a campfire. Fifty percent of marriages end in divorce; no do-overs there. Bad decisions at work get you fired or disciplined; very few do-overs there. Take a wrong turn at an intersection and you could be lost for hours. You can get a do-over if you recognize the mistake soon enough and turn around, but usually, by the time you realize your error it’s too late and you have to chart a new course. You must get back on a new track to get where you want to go.
I guess a more thoughtful answer to Cameron’s wonderful question would be that looking back and pondering a life of “what ifs” and do-overs can be paralyzing. It will inhibit forward movement, like getting stuck in first gear in a manual shift car. Better to celebrate the setbacks as much as the triumphs. Better to blend the bitter, harsh taste of negative events equally with the sweet, comforting flavor of successes. And if you can do that and stay positive, you have figured out how to LIVE. I’ll bet if Bessie could talk, she would agree.
