The following day, one department at a time, we gave each person an opportunity to list things that they thought would brighten the workplace for them. Our scribes wrote everything down. Suggestions ranged from putting a new coat of paint on the walls, to planning some fun activities, to onsite training. I was surprised and pleased at the thought they had put into their suggestions. Up until this point, I was uncertain as to how much cooperation and enthusiasm we would get.
The work of the scribes was typed into a document, listing all of the suggestions, and reviewed by the Happiness Committee. Any items deemed inappropriate, or just beyond the scope of the Happiness Project, were eliminated. A ballot was compiled of the remaining suggestions. An e-mail was sent out to let everyone know that they would vote for their five favorite suggestions.
The next day, I got on the intercom to let each department know when to vote. When people began to line up to vote, I noticed that there was already a change. The familiar chatter was back. People were smiling. I was getting excited. Was this going to work?
After the voting, the ballots were tallied and the top twenty suggestions, by number of votes, were compiled. Once again, these were reviewed by the Happiness Committee. This time, their job was to determine what could be done about each suggestion and what the timeline was for getting it done. It was time to let everyone know.
We had thought about this and decided to use it as an opportunity to begin fulfilling the items on the list. One of the top ten items was for the office to get together, periodically, for a potluck breakfast or lunch. Just some fellowship among coworkers. We planned the Happiness Café. All employees would be invited to breakfast. They would be given menus from which they could choose and their breakfast would be prepared to order. The best part? The supervisors served as the waiters and the cooks.
Dressed in white aprons, all the supervisors lined up as the rest of the employees took their seats at the Happiness Café. Employees were delighted to have their supervisors waiting on them. Supervisors tried to outdo one another with their customer service. I was a cook and, even from the kitchen, I could hear the noise and laughter. I took a minute and peeked through the door. It did my heart good to see all the happy faces. My coworkers. My friends.
Once everyone had a chance to eat, I had announcements to make. I read the list of the top twenty suggestions and let everyone know what actions were planned and the estimated timelines. Everyone applauded. I also announced that a permanent committee had been formed, a mix of supervisors and other employees, to make sure the suggestions were carried out and the momentum of the Happiness Project continued. This new committee would be called the TEAM Committee.
To introduce the new committee, I shouted out, cheerleader style, each letter of TEAM. As I did, each member ran out holding that letter high overhead. Once all were in place, everyone applauded and cheered. What can I say? Sometimes corny works.
Not only did every item on the top-twenty list come to fruition, the TEAM Committee is still in place today. The CEO has handed out letters of commendation to the committee for its work. These are very hard to come by so they mean a lot.
My coworker and I went back to class the following week and listened as everyone reported on their projects. When it was our turn, jaws dropped. We hit it out of the park. Neither our classmates nor our teacher could believe how far we took our project.
Our work had not only increased morale in the office and caused workplace improvements, it had boosted our morale also. I learned that making other people happy is one of the best ways to make yourself happy, just like the two women in the story “First Class Attitude.”
~Debbie Acklin
First Class Attitude
People are not disturbed by things, but by the view they take of them.
~Epictetus
A few years ago, looking to open an inspirational bookstore, a friend and I attended a booksellers’ course in New York. After a busy few days filled with learning and sightseeing, we were ready to get home to our families. We left the convention center looking to hail a cab with what felt like plenty of time to make our flight.
No sooner than leaving the building it began to rain. “A little rain never hurt anyone,” we thought. Besides we were about to embark on a business of inspiring people, so we couldn’t let a little bad weather steal our joy. After a short while with no luck finding a vacant cab, it suddenly dawned on us, “It’s five o’clock in New York City! This is rush hour traffic. We may never get a cab.” My friend then remembered she had saved the card of the van company that had driven us in from the airport several days prior. As the rain began to pick up we scurried to a nearby awning and gave them a call. Over an hour later, our van finally arrived and shuttled us to the airport.
We arrived at the airline ticket counter with little time to spare, only to discover the airline could not locate my flight reservation. We looked at each other in disbelief yet somehow managed to maintain a smile as we worked with the attendant to find a solution. Fifteen minutes before take-off we were finally able to resolve the issue. Doubtful of making the flight, yet refusing to lose all hope, we headed through security and made a mad dash towards our flight gate.
A sigh of relief came upon us when we arrived at the gate to discover the flight had been delayed half an hour. Not only did we not miss the flight but now we had a few minutes to collect ourselves and grab a quick snack before boarding. About twenty minutes passed and we eagerly headed back toward the gate. Much to our dismay however, upon reaching the gate we discovered the delay had been extended another hour due to bad weather in another state. Although we were tired and ready to get home, we refused to end our trip on a sour note. Instead, we decided to make the most of our wait and grabbed a nearby seat on the floor to relax and chat about our trip.
We ended up sitting near a gentleman who at some point joined in on our conversation. After a bit of talking, the conversation turned to the gentleman sharing with us some struggles he was experiencing in his life. My friend and I, being women of strong faith, were then able to share some experience, strength, and hope with him that we believe influenced him in a positive way.
My friend and I talked afterward about how delays in life can be frustrating, but you never know why they may be happening. There could be some underlying purpose for them that you don’t realize in the moment. Maybe it’s to alter your life course for the better, maybe it’s to afford you an opportunity you would not have had otherwise, maybe it’s to share hope with someone in need, maybe it’s to stop you from making a huge mistake, or maybe it’s to protect you or someone else from harm’s way.
We continued to sit and chat as announcement after announcement trickled in informing us each time that our delay had been extended. Being that we were sitting near the airline counter we also were able to hear passengers approach the airline employees and express their dissatisfaction and frustration. We were impressed with the empathy and style with which the airline handled each customer’s concern. I admit, at this point, we were fighting ourselves to not let the frustration get to us, yet somehow we managed to keep smiling. This furthered our conversation on how good it felt to make the most of the situation.
Well into the middle of the night, airline employees began bringing out refreshments to the passengers. My friend hopped up and offered to help. I jumped up after her, agreeing it sounded like a good idea. We then proceeded to pour cups of juice and water and offer them to weary passengers. We found ourselves sitting and sharing stories with some, while just offering smiles and encouragement to others.
Once all the passengers were served, we sat back down and continued our conversation. We talked about how great it felt to see frowns turn into smiles and how encouraging it was to us to sit and listen to others. We were truly realizing what it meant to look at the glass half full and what can happen when you chose to make the most of every opportunity. Life is going to throw you lemons sometimes. Will you make a sour face or add a little sweetener and d
rink up the lemonade? Sometimes we want so badly for our reality to change. Yet what we don’t realize is that sometimes in order for our reality to change our perception must change. We may not be able to control the things around us, but we can control our attitude and sometimes that makes all the difference.
As my friend and I sat and chatted some more, an airline attendant walked over to us and bent down. He thanked us for our help and told us how much the attendants had appreciated our positive attitudes. He then asked for our boarding passes, telling us the airline wanted to upgrade us to First Class! Shortly after exchanging our tickets our plane was finally ready for take-off. We boarded the plane with a new enlightened perspective on how big an impact our attitude can truly make.
~Mandie Maass
Doing Good
Being good is commendable, but only when it is combined with doing good is it useful.
~Author Unknown
Made a Difference to That One
Act as if what you do makes a difference. It does.
~William James
Twenty years ago — in the very first Chicken Soup for the Soul book ever published — I read a story by Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen that changed me forever. The story was entitled “One At A Time.” Its message? Just because you can’t save the whole world doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to make a little piece of it better.
Through the years, I was reminded of that message every time I helped a kid learn to dribble a basketball. Every time I delivered homemade oatmeal raisin cookies to a nursing home. Every time I picked up litter or took in a homeless kitten or let somebody who seemed more hurried and harried than I go ahead of me in the grocery checkout line.
But the message hit the hardest the summer Caroline came into my life.
She was standing in ninety-degree heat in the parking lot of the tiny branch library I’d just been hired to manage. “Hey,” she said, as I fumbled to unlock the door. “Are you the new library lady?”
“I am,” I told her. “Who are you?”
“Caroline,” she said. “And I just turned ten.”
Hmmmmm, I thought. Caroline was certainly the smallest ten-year-old I’d ever seen. But it was clear that she could read, for she had obviously noted the sign on the door that said: CHILDREN LESS THAN TEN YEARS MUST BE ACCOMPANIED BY A PARENT.
“Come on in here where it’s cool, Caroline,” I said. “Let’s see if we can find you some good books.”
We did. And because not one other patron entered the library for the first two hours it was open, we had plenty of time to enjoy those books. I read to Caroline for a while and then she read to me. I helped her find kid-friendly games to play on the computer. I showed her where the restroom and the water fountain were. But as morning became afternoon, my stomach began to growl. I’d brought a sack lunch — when you’re running a one-person operation, there’s no going out for a meal — but I hated to eat in front of Caroline.
“Don’t you think you ought to head home and get some lunch?” I finally asked.
Her eyes narrowed and she shook her head. “Nobody’s home at my house.”
“Did your parents leave you something to eat?”
“My mom locks the door every morning when she goes to work. She won’t be home till dark.”
I turned away so that Caroline wouldn’t see the tears welling up in my eyes. And, of course, I shared my bologna sandwich and tangerine and Little Debbie oatmeal creme pie with her. She stayed at the library all day. And as I watched her curled up in the yellow bean bag chair in the cool quiet, reading about Clifford the Big Red Dog and Horton the Elephant and Amelia Bedelia, I couldn’t help but wonder how many other children there were in this little town and in this big world, locked out and lonely and left to fend for themselves.
There were millions, no doubt. Just thinking about them made me want to weep. To gnash my teeth. To wring my hands in despair. How could I possibly make a dent in such a problem? Then I remembered the story of the man walking along the beach, picking up starfish and throwing them — one at a time — back into the ocean so they wouldn’t die.
Every day, that whole summer long, Caroline was waiting for me when I pulled into the library parking lot and climbed out of my car holding two sack lunches. She’d help me unlock the door and turn on the lights and fire up the computers. And then she’d plop down in the yellow beanbag chair and grin at me.
“Let’s start with Horton Hatches the Egg,” she’d say.
It’s true. One library lady in one little town couldn’t make a difference to every child on the mean streets of this planet. But I could make a difference to one.
~Jennie Ivey
One At A Time
We ourselves feel that what we are doing is just a drop in the ocean. But the ocean would be less because of that missing drop.
~Mother Teresa
A friend of ours was walking down a deserted Mexican beach at sunset. As he walked along, he began to see another man in the distance. As he grew nearer, he noticed that the man kept leaning down, picking something up and throwing it out into the water. Time and again he kept hurling things out into the ocean.
As our friend approached even closer, he noticed that the man was picking up starfish that had been washed up on the beach and, one at a time, he was throwing them back into the water.
Our friend was puzzled. He approached the man and said, “Good evening, friend. I was wondering what you are doing.”
“I’m throwing these starfish back into the ocean. You see, it’s low tide right now and all of these starfish have been washed up onto the shore. If I don’t throw them back into the sea, they’ll die up here from lack of oxygen.”
“I understand,” my friend replied, “but there must be thousands of starfish on this beach. You can’t possibly get to all of them. There are simply too many. And don’t you realize this is probably happening on hundreds of beaches all up and down this coast? Can’t you see that you can’t possibly make a difference?”
The man smiled, bent down, and picked up yet another starfish, and as he threw it back into the sea, he replied, “Made a difference to that one!”
~Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen
The Little Things
What this world needs is a new kind of army — the army of the kind.
~Cleveland Amory
I have always enjoyed the Chicken Soup for the Soul series and, in browsing through a bookstore a few years ago, I found a used copy of the Chicken Soup for the Woman’s Soul edition. Sandy Ezrine had written a poem titled “It Couldn’t Hurt” that focused on the small acts of kindness she had shown toward others.
That poem made me stop and think that opportunities to help others in the big, outstanding ways do not often come our way, but we can make a difference in the lives of other people when we focus on the little things we can do for them. I decided to put that attitude into practice and began looking for the little things I could do for the people who crossed my path each day.
Almost immediately, I began to see the difference it made not only in the lives of others, but also in my own life as I focused more on others and less on myself. The poem that follows is the result of Sandy’s inspiration to me in my own personal life.
The Little Things
I baked muffins for the young man who cut a portion
of my yard and would not take any money.
He said how good they tasted.
I went to the grocery store for an older neighbor couple
during a snowstorm when they were afraid to drive.
They were grateful for the food.
I took a special pastry to the gentleman in the neighborhood
on his 90th birthday when he was not expecting it.
He smiled and said he liked sweets.
I prepared lunch for the carpet-layers as they worked in the heat
and had forgotten to bring lunch with them.
They ate like hungry children.
I took drinks to the
trash men on a hot afternoon in summer heat
when they looked so exhausted from the humidity.
They drank it like men never having water.
I took homemade chicken noodle soup, crackers, and cheese
to a lady in an auto accident, temporarily confined to a wheelchair.
She liked the taste of something she had not prepared.
I sent a special card to a lady in the neighborhood
who was facing her husband’s first birthday after his passing.
She thanked me for being sensitive.
I had a “thank you” lunch for the ladies who had helped with food
after my knee surgery and the following convalescence.
They had a good time of fellowship.
I baked brownies for the plumbers I always called with problems
when they did not charge me for a service call.
They appreciated the recognition.
I spent the afternoon with a friend who had lost a close family member
when she had no one else with whom to share her hurts.
She felt the freedom to cry and felt better.
I sent a special card to a lady whom I had known for years
when she faced the first Christmas without her husband.
She knew that I truly understood her situation.
I stopped and thanked the custodian at the busy local hospital
when he was mopping the dirty footprints from the hall.
He stood up straighter and seemed so pleased.
I prepared a meal for a friend who works many long, hard hours
when she came home weary from being on her feet.
We enjoyed the meal together and talked.
I thanked the checkout lady at the grocery store cash register
when she totaled my bill and gave me change.
She was pleased that someone appreciated her.
I read a poem by Sandy Ezrine when she shared her thoughts
Chicken Soup for the Soul: Reader's Choice 20th Anniversary Edition Page 19