I was reminded today of how I did my good deed for the day at a local Tim Horton’s a couple years ago.
Let me set the scene for you.
This poor guy was trying to hard to exit the building with his Double Doubles and their well designed lids precariously perched on the sturdy cardboard tray.
I could see him clearly. He kept pushing and pushing against the door, but it just wouldn’t budge. He couldn’t get out. There was no egress for him. It appeared as though he would be trapped inside, forevermore, his specialty coffees going cold, his companions going thirsty and un-caffeinated.
Now I know what you’re thinking…Because I, in your situation, would have thought the same thing.
He was pushing on a pull door.
Well, he wasn’t. It was definitely a push door, at least from his direction. And hot damn, was the guy pushing.
For the record, he was not a small dude. He’d probably describe himself as girthy. Well muscled, he’d definitely spent some time at the gym. Or on the needle. Or both.
I couldn’t stop watching as the scene unfolded right before my eyes. He wouldn’t give up, yet still could not escape. I was mesmerized. His tenacity was astounding. He wouldn’t give up, undaunted by repeated failures to achieve his goal, like a wee toddler learning to stand for the first time.
I could even see that his big juicy superficial temporal vein looked like it was going to burst. It was throbbing. Pulsing. He had sweat starting to bead up at his furrowed brow and upon his pursed upper lip. The sinewy muscles of his neck were straining against his skin. His effort was real. As was his struggle.
He was startled when he noticed me as he looked up at his reflection on the glass door. We made eye contact, briefly, before he looked away, in shame.
But in that instant, I was able to silently mouth the words, trying not to cause him any embarrassment in the packed establishment on account of his exitile dysfunction:
Do you need some help?
He looked so defeated that whether he wanted my help or not, he was going to get it. He needed it. We must all step up and away, and become the Good Samaritan that resides within us all.
So I removed my foot from the base of the door and pulled it open for him.
As he walked out past me, he quietly mumbled his thanks. I felt so good inside.
Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.Mr. Fred Rogers
That morning I was a helper.