Just Doing My Part

I’ve always loved airports. I think part of that enjoyment stems from the anticipation of the destination ahead, although almost half the time that destination for me is Oklahoma—not exactly a tropical paradise or an international adventure. Therefore, I think a larger part of my love for airports comes from the unparalleled opportunity they offer for people watching. Just think about it: thousands of people from across the globe are interacting with each other for a brief moment in time. With those thousands of people come thousands of stories—a sharply dressed business traveler is heading to Los Angeles, a family with newborn twins is headed to Miami on vacation, and a young man is returning from military service abroad—that’s how I imagine their stories anyway. At least for a few brief seconds, those stories become intertwined when passing through security or grabbing a coffee at Starbucks. Last Sunday night I experienced some routine but memorable interactions at the airport that taught me some things I’d like to recount here. I hope you enjoy.

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Dairy Queen is one of my most frequent food choices at the MSP airport, mainly because of its central location in Concourse C, where most Delta gates are located. It’s certainly not cheap—Sunday night I paid $12.03 for a menu item nationally advertised for $5. But hey, it’s quick, convenient junk food—what more could an American want? I digress, but this helps set the scene for my experiences Sunday night.

I walked up to the counter, bracing myself for the unnecessary cash that was about to be spent. I was warmly greeted by the cashier, who took my order, then proceeded to ask me about me about my day and wish me “the most enjoyable flight possible.” I overcame my typically awkward self and narrowly avoided responding with “you too,” instead wishing him the fastest shift possible. He thanked me, and we continued to chat for a while longer. As I walked to a booth, I couldn’t help but smile. It was a small interaction, but I could feel the trajectory of my day starting to shift.

I happened to choose a booth quite close to the counter and couldn’t help but listen in on the cashier’s interactions with the next customers in line. First were a young gentleman and his son, probably about 4 yrs. old. The man, clearly flustered by his son’s behavior, ordered and paid for a small cone, then stepped to the side. The cashier, asking the next customer to wait for just a second, walked over to the man and asked him if he’d like an extra bowl of ice cream so his son could enjoy some ice cream on the move. The customer enthusiastically accepted the offer, and the cashier returned to the counter, called the extra order to the back, and stepped up to the register with a smile on his face, as a flight crew member (probably a pilot or co-pilot) stepped up to the counter to be served next. The cashier went above and beyond to serve this man too, so much so that the crew member was visibly moved, and asked what he could do for the cashier: “Do you accept tips? Can I fill out a survey and mention your name?” “No,” the cashier responded, "I’m just doing my part.”

I soon finished my meal, took my last few sips of Coke, and began to walk back towards my gate. I thought about what the cashier said: “I’m just doing my part.” I’m sure he wasn’t making much money, and certainly was working by the hour. I thought about my employment history and the times where I would think “I’m not getting paid enough for this” when there was an opportunity to go above and beyond what was asked of me. I felt a tinge of regret—how many opportunities to serve others had I wasted? I then thought more specifically about his exact words: “I’m just doing my part.” Clearly, he recognized that he had a platform, and indeed a responsibility, to contribute to the world, because of his position at a DQ at the MSP airport. And he did have that platform. You see, I imagine that pilot flying a 737 full of about 200 passengers bound for New York that night, and that man with his little son returning to the rest of his family with an improved mood and more hope for the end of a long travel day. And his impact on me didn’t take any imagination—I was noticeably happier as I boarded my plane back to school and began to tackle the work I had been dreading all day. That cashier had just helped to spread positivity into at least 3 different states, and I only witnessed probably 5-10% of his shift.

I can’t help but imagine what the world would be like if it was filled with people like this cashier. People who hold themselves to the highest standard in their work and put others first. People who recognize their platform and use it to do their part. People who live life with a smile on their face and a joyful attitude.

This leads me to another point—the cashier and his coworkers seemed to be having a good time too. The cashier’s positivity made customers happy, which means that the employees received compliments from customers and could take great pride in their work. You see, positivity is one of those rare things in this world not subject to the law of scarcity. That cashier making others happy didn’t drain his own happiness, it only amplified it.

On Monday, I think I had meaningful interactions with about 20 people (meaningful being > 30-second conversation). If those 20 people interacted with their own 30 people (yes 30, we are accounting for the fact that these people are likely less socially awkward than I am), then I indirectly reached about 600 people on Monday. I know this is a somewhat cliché concept, but one needs to be reminded of it. I have a platform, and so too do you. The only pertinent question is: how are you going to use it? The world has enough average, let’s go for great.