Okay, I’ve probably not repaid all my debts to society, because after all,
there were those college years to consider. (Also known as “Narrow Avoidance of
Jail Time Hijinks.”) If I somehow wronged you back then or accidentally set
something of yours ablaze in a well-intended ploy for hilarity, remember:
there’s no way that was me. I was studying and have the mediocre grades to
prove it.
But it sure seemed like a good idea at the time.
Anyway, you readers may remember when I
was ticketed for driving at the speed of sound (49 mph in a 35 mph zone where
there was no other civilization for 6 miles). I was asked to either pay $155 or
perform 5 hours of Community Service. Writing the check was boring and
expected; so I chose the service part.
I may have misjudged this.
Surprisingly, they have “rules” for
what service you perform, which is a word I sort of hate. It’s not so much about
the rules; it’s about the rule makers who may have inserted that Ear Wax Vacuum
thing a little too deeply. So, they turned down my offer to watch Velocity
Channel at the YMCA one Saturday.
Wow, talk about sticklers. As the deadline drew
near, my wife had this “…great idea.” (Realize that “great” is how wives
describe shopping for summer shoes or recipes involving hummus, which is
actually ground-up anchor rope.)
Since we just moved, we discovered that
when you jam two households of furniture into one, 3 things happen:
1. Your former man-cave garage begins
“inheriting” very un-man-cave-like items. Things like 4
sets of China with the optional gravy boats, dozens of ladles, crystal
candlesticks, brass candlesticks, various vases, ladies’ clothes (some of which
have been worn almost twice!), plus – as far as I can tell – 372 needlepoint
chairs. My dude zone now looks like a Flea Market for unorganized fleas with a
flair for Victorian living.
2. You try and “place” items with friends
and family. I don’t need to go into detail here,
but when you try to weave the desire for a gravy boat into a conversation,
people start backing up. A common response was, “Uh, I’m not sure. Can you hold
it until later?” This is code for, “You have the stylistic taste of a
dysfunctional wombat, so no, I don’t want what even YOU don’t want.”
3. You give lots and lots of things away
to the closest charity you can find and they think you are on a mission from
God and want to name a wing of the Children’s Harbor Thrift Store after you.
So, that sort of happened.
Yes, this fantastic charity (see http://www.childrensharbor.com)
has a Thrift Store that has everything from baskets to Bass boats to Bass weejuns.
They also now have a rather superb collection of crystal and brass candlesticks.
And I have…
An
employee T-shirt.
Yep, as a result of my wife’s great
idea – for which I now take credit – I served my time last Saturday. I helped
selfless souls Marty and Deb take in goods, unload boxes, carry furniture and
stand around appearing volunteer-like. I got to thank the people who donated clothes
and cameras; another who gave several skis, another who had an old toaster,
another who bought a small boat trailer.
A circle of goodness envelops the
process. The Thrift Store exists by generosity. The customers get unimaginable
bargains. The proceeds benefit the charity. It’s like God’s original and purest
form of recycling.
You may say, “Why don’t they just give the stuff away?” and, in fact, often
they do. Yet customers here leave with items and their dignity intact,
no matter their station. There is a nobility in purchasing – especially that
which helps others – that doesn’t come with being tossed society’s excess. They
know that respect is earned and within a man; not demanded by entitlement.
I got to see, first hand, that however
“un-rich” you feel, you are
comparative royalty to most customers. You sometimes hear, “It’s unhealthy to compare.”
I say step on down to the Thrift Store and compare away; you’ll humble yourself
in the excess to which we’ve grown accustomed.
You’ll feel the sympathetic brow of happiness
with the lady who called her husband over twice
to make sure the $25 heater was okay with him. It was. And they were happy. As
are you, except for the gnawing recognition that you’ve spent more on coffee in
a week. Suddenly, a glut in the gut gives you a healthy comparison of fleeting
indulgences versus real need. Value adjustment on Aisle 3, please.
I also met some extremely kind people
among the donors. All “givers” of the first order. Most seemed to be regulars,
known by Marty, a man with joy in his eyes, a spring in his step and service in
his heart. I get it now. Community. Service. Two words, one mission. Turns out
the debt to society repaid me.
Your
Turn?
In a sheepish look back at my annual
goals, my “giving” column paled in comparison to the “getting” column, so
please dismiss any presumption here. I encourage you to find that spot in your
week, month, year where giving of yourself – and not just the check sent in
your place – to a cause raises your spirit. You know the one.
In the service business, you are
uniquely qualified to help. We’ve often advised “Feel Good” PR that is a
reflection of your goodwill, and a bonus on top.
Donating a furnace and labor, wrapping
pipes, providing emergency electricity, will all be like the angels themselves (but
with vocational training) arrived on-site. When others see this, I guarantee
someone will “catch” your spirit and carry on. And how awesome will that feel?
Go ahead, be contagious. Become a
carrier of goodness.
And if your project requires needlepoint
chairs, I can deliver.
Adams
Hudson
SPEAKING
DATES:
Annual
Associated Equipment Corp. meeting at Sandestin Golf and Beach Resort in
Florida on March 1, 2014.
ACCA
in Nashville, TN, March 17 at 3:45. Go
here to learn more and save your spot. As a result of his “time” served above, both
seminars will have much more open consulting, freely given.
