There is a
story flying over the internet about a couple who gave a huge tip to a waiter who provided terrible service. The entire restaurant was
complaining. It took twenty minutes to get water, forty for an appetizer, and another hour for the entree. That is a lot of waiting.
But this couple watched more carefully. Their server was in charge of twelve tables plus the bar, and while he hustled, he was pleasant to each customer. The restaurant was understaffed. He could go no faster.
The couple had once been in the business too and remembered how hard it could be. They
predicted that for all his effort that night he would get pathetic tips, for reasons he could not change. So they tipped the scale.
There was a time when John's office was at home, and he had to listen to the uproar of four small children. Actually I contributed heavily to the uproar. There was days when my voice would escalate in my fruitless effort to get kids to quiet down, and John would wait for a break in the noise.
"I love
you!"
Bam. Right when I felt most unlovable he would plunk down an affirmation. I can still queue up the feeling of compassion. He knew I was outnumbered. He understood that I was not being my best self, and that reminding me of my failings was unlikely to boost my spirits.
Twelve years ago we went out to dinner for my daughter's graduation and the service
was just that slow. But we were the only ones in the dining room. I was irritated. What were the staff doing, playing poker? I grumbled. Yet I have since wondered if there were circumstances I could not see. What if I had given them the benefit of the doubt, instead of sanctimoniously passing judgment?
Rewards when people are at peak performance work as incentives in business.
I savored a few accolades myself in high school, and college.
But there is something unforgettable about offering support to someone who feels like dirt.
