If You Enjoy Your Job, Is It Work?

One year on the annual family pilgrimage to Cape Cod for the summer, I asked my Dad what he did for work. Blah, Blah, blah, consulting, blah, blah Exxon, blah, is what I heard. About half way through the drive, we pulled into the gas station to refuel and I asked my Dad which pump was his. I heard him say he worked at Exxon. We were at an Exxon gas station. I assumed he pumped gas. What did I know? I was 5.

My parents always get a kick out of telling people that story and from it, I have learned it's best to boil your job description down to something a 5 year old would understand. So here it is, I get paid to help people. Yea, yea, I know, you should help people whether you get paid or not and I do. Really, I do.

I walked into the Dunkin Donuts near the office one afternoon and there was an 80 year old lady with a small paper cup of hot water and 3 munchkins on a napkin. She was wearing a silver sequined beret and had perfectly applied red lipstick. She had put more time in her appearance that day than I had so as I walked past her I commented to her that I liked her beret (not for me mind you, but she looked cute in in). She beamed and told me it was the last gift her husband, Henry, had given her before he died. For years her kids encouraged her to move out of New England to the warmth of Florida but if she moved out of the cold climate, she couldn't wear the beret which reminded her of dear Henry.

As I ordered my coffee, 3 teenage punk boys walked into the shop. They were rowdy, loud and rude (holy crap, I'm getting old, right?). I watched as they approached the old lady. One of the teenagers took a munchkin off her napkin and popped it in his mouth. "Thanks granny lady" he chuckled. Another one of the trio then smacked the sparkly beret off her head and it fell to the ground. The third punk kicked it. As Henry's last gift to his love slid across the floor, I did what any good citizen who gets paid to help people would do....I called a co-worker.

I relayed the scene to a guy I work with and like a flash, two colleagues burst through the door. Tall, broad, authoritative guys whose job it is to not take crap from people asked the punks what the problem was. The punks bolted out the door hollering an apology as they ran. I picked up the beret, dusted it off and returned it to the old lady. My co-workers asked if there was anything else they could do.

Sparkly hat lady's perfectly red lips curled into a smile and she answered, "actually, it has been a while since 2 good looking men have walked me to the bus stop. What do you say fellas?" Off the three of them went. I don't know who looked happier, her or them.

Paid or unpaid - helping people feels good.