Winter weather had finally given over to a glimpse of
sunshine in the Boston area. Nevertheless, the subway trains were running
particularly slow one April morning. At regular intervals on M.N.'s ride to
work, the train would remain a few extra minutes at the station with a barely
audible message alerting passengers to a "schedule adjustment" or
"traffic ahead," although the latter of these seems a given for any
train on any track ever.
While riders seemed a bit happier than a few weeks
earlier when they sloshed through snow and muck to catch the train, patience
was wearing a bit thin because of the delays. Finally, about halfway to M.N.'s
destination, a subway employee helped an elderly gentleman using a support cane
onto the train. A few passengers moved and offered their seats to the man who
appeared to be blind, an assumption that was confirmed when he sat down
directly across from M.N., and said in a loud voice: "I'm blind. I hate
the world."
A young woman sitting next to the gentleman asked him if
he needed any help, to which he responded, "I don't know you" in a
response that sounded somewhat perturbed.
The doors closed and the train finally made its way to
the next station.
There wasn't a delay at the stop and M.N. was concerned
that the man might miss his stop. As they were about to arrive at the next
station, M.N. shouted across the way, "What stop do you want to get off
at?"
The man responded, "Who are you?" again
sounding perturbed.
"I'm the guy you told you were blind and hated the
world," M.N. responded.
The gentleman laughed. Loudly.
When they finally pulled into M.N.'s stop for work, he
saw that the gentleman got up as well.
"Do you need help?" M.N. asked him.
"Yes, I'm going downstairs to catch the bus?"
As they exited the train M.N. offered the man his arm,
which he took, and they started walking.
"Can't you walk any faster?" the man asked M.N.
So M.N. picked up the pace. They arrived at the
lower-level bus stop.
"OK, we're here," M.N. said.
The man removed his armed, grumbled "yeah," and
walked away.
M.N. was a bit taken aback that the gentleman seemed
brusque and didn't offer as much as a "thank you" for M.N.'s efforts.
Now, M.N. wonders if he was wrong to offer help.
Offering help to someone who seemed in need was an
appropriate and kind gesture. If the man didn't want the help, he could have
refused it. But he accepted the offer and M.N. helped him get to his desired location.
The polite and gracious thing would have been for the man
to thank M.N. But if M.N.'s motivation was to do something helpful to someone
who appeared to need help, then that act alone should have been sufficient.
While a thank you might have made M.N. feel good, not getting one doesn't
diminish the kindness he tried to show.
Getting acknowledged for a good act shouldn't be the
primary driving force if the desire is truly to show kindness or to help
someone in need. The right thing is to know that sometimes showing kindness to
a stranger is its own reward.
Jeffrey L. Seglin, author of The Simple Art of Business Etiquette: How to Rise to the Top by Playing Nice, is a senior lecturer in public policy and director of the communications program at Harvard's Kennedy School. He is also the administrator of www.jeffreyseglin.com, a blog focused on ethical issues.
Do you have ethical questions that you need answered? Send them to rightthing@comcast.net.
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