Pump up your Holiday Spirit

For some the Holiday season is a magical time, for others depressing and difficult, for still others somewhere in between. Last week I had a small experience, a quick tale that raised my holiday spirit. Here’s my story. Please feel free to comment and share your own if you like.

I started my car very early in the morning, a dark, frosty, cold sunrise, and the tire warning light came on. Being a resourceful, do-it-now project management type I decided to take immediate action, before I showered, before I shaved, before I dressed in business casual. Off I went to my local gas station complex, not a long drive from my house.

I pulled up to the air compressor, a big metal monstrosity built a long time ago, and put in two quarters. Nothing happened. No air. I gave the machine a gentle nudge. Nothing. I gave the machine an open fisted slap up the backside. Nothing again. Defeated, I pressed the coin return and heard my money fall, not, however into the slot from which I needed to retrieve the coins. I peered in and there was my money stuck in the back. Often, projects are won, victory saved from sure defeat, because some people just refuse to be beaten. I would like to think that I am one of those people. I was not going to give up my 50 cents without a fight.

I pulled the car away, making room for the operation to come, and grabbed my all purpose, swiss army-like tool from the glove department. I released the knife blade from the handle and went to work on that machine, prodding, poking, burrowing deeper, my back to the gas station, my attention focused completely on my task, in other words, working my project responsibilities to maximum effectiveness.

“Are you having trouble out here?” she asked, “Are you cold? Would you like to come in and get warm? Honey, do you need a hot cup of coffee?” I looked over my shoulder and there was the woman who worked the counter, her cigarette glowing, her uniform apron slightly stained.

I looked at her and she looked at me and then a few seconds later I realized what she was seeing, an unshowered, unshaven, poorly dressed, middle-aged man digging for quarters in an old beat up machine. There are people in America, too many people, to whom two quarters could mean not going hungry today. And there are people, perhaps too few people, who when faced with such people in these dire straits will offer help. This woman was one of those people, a heartening fact in a world full of too many disheartening realities.

Of course, I explained my true situation. She offered to refund my quarters, a nice gesture, and inform the owners of the machine’s demise. I declined and she wondered back inside. I hope she hadn’t been kind just because it was the holiday season. Somehow I don’t think so.

(Just in case you can’t stand not knowing I was able to retrieve my quarters, a small but satisfying victory.)