I swerved my car into a rest area off ramp. It was a last second decision that couldn’t have been very popular with the vehicles behind me. I parked and hustled in to use the restroom. On my way back to the car, I enjoyed a wonderful treat.
A man in a shirt and tie, standing beside the driver’s side door of my car was aiming his remote at it. He frantically alternated between aiming and pushing the unlock button and yanking my door handle. The more frustrated he got, the more violently he pointed his remote at the car. “Yes, that helps. Waving the gadget at the car more harder. Gooder thinking, that is!”
So I hit the alarm button on my remote causing him to leap backwards and look around. I peeked from around a large sign that displayed the turnpike route and all the other rest areas, grinning like a child. His car was two spots away. Embarrassed, he slipped into his similar looking car and sped off. What a great way for me to start the day.
A few weeks ago I was killing time in a mall waiting for my appointment at an Apple retail store. I leaned against a railing to people-watch for a spell. I watched a set of grandparents walking towards the entrance to Target with their grandson. This trio got more attention than anyone else in the mall.
The grandparents walked ahead of the boy, measuring their pace so he could keep up. What slowed him was this: the boy who looked to be around 4 or 5 years old was pushing a walker. It was the chrome kind that wraps around you with wheels on the bottom. He would push ahead and step forward, one step at a time.
I watched the reactions of the shoppers as they regarded the boy. Their attention shot past the walker as did mine. What got everyone to do a double-take were the boy’s fluorescent Nike sneakers and lime green prosthetic legs. He had the kind of prosthetics that start just below the knee and re-curve backwards. I thought they were only worn by athletic-minded people. But who is more active than a five year-old boy?
What struck me was his face. He was as excited to be heading into Target as any other kid who wants to ransack the toy department of that store. Being a double-amputee wasn’t even on his radar screen. It was on ours. Everyone who saw that boy had a reaction. One grandmotherly looking woman even covered her mouth with her hand like she just happened upon the scene of a gory roadside accident.
A different day. Super sunny and warm for the season. I drove through a residential neighborhood I was unfamiliar with, until today. I paused at a four-way stop sign. A man on one corner stood with his hands thrust deep in the pockets of his jacket. A blue satin Dallas Cowboys jacket. It reminded of one my parents bought for me when I was around ten.
He was tall and very thin. He wore no shirt under the jacket so the ample hair on his chest was visible. His legs were mostly straight though his feet were spread further apart than normal. And he rocked and swayed as he stared up at the sun. The sun tried to be powerful on this late fall day. A poor impersonation of its mid-summer muscle. The man’s greasy hair and reflective sunglasses shimmered. I noticed a car waiting patiently behind me. The driver didn’t beep and I appreciated that. So I moved on.
The change oil warning had gone off on my dashboard message center. I definitely needed an oil change, so I tried to remember the last time I got one. I pulled into a Valvoline oil change place; I have had good luck in the few I’ve used.
The manager spoke with me. My first impression of him was a hustler but professional. He spoke politely and quarterbacked his team with practiced ease. But there was one employee who seemed unsure of himself. He moved a little slower than the others and did a lot of standing around. When the manager noticed the employee’s lack of speed, he said “There’s no watching involved in work. Get moving. You don’t want to be known as a 'watcher'.”
I loved it. Sometimes it’s good to be a watcher. Not at most jobs, though. Definitely not at a change-your-oil-as-fast-as-possible business. I get to play a watcher at work sometimes but the amount of time I spend watching decreases every day. It’s more about doing. And luckily I get it.
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