I have caught myself saying the following phrase, “Yeah, no I can’t do that.” What is that supposed to mean? I guess the positive “yeah” at the beginning of my sentence was simply there to preemptively reinforce the negative “no” that immediately followed. Imagine being the person hearing this statement. They just asked me if I could do something for them and I started by saying, “Yeah,” only making the let-down worse when I followed it with the “no.”
I felt just as confused when I titled this blog, but I couldn’t think of any other more appropriate title. Still, how can a big thing be little? What’s the purpose of saying something is little and big in the same statement.
A tank is a big piece of machinery. But, if you put it next to a 747, it suddenly doesn’t seem so big any more. The comparison to a bigger object doesn’t mean a tank is a small thing. It’s still a big thing by any definition. Why is that?
I’ll tell you why. It has to do with a ubiquitous reference point – a human being. The perspective we have of things is based not on the thing being perceived, but on the one doing the perceiving. (We covered this theory in a previous blog. Click here to get caught up with the rest of the group.) It’s how the “bigness” of a tank isn’t lost even when lined up among a bevy of much larger objects.
We don’t have the perspective of a tank. We might be able to empathize with the tank’s predicament of feeling small, but we will never have any idea what it’s like to be a tank – even though I’m pretty sure it would be one of the most awesome things ever.
Take, for instance, a balloon. It’s not very big at all. You can get one for a dollar at any Dollar Tree. For $8, you can get eight of them. That’s about how many I bought to celebrate Debbie’s birthday. Debbie makes an amazing patty melt at the Chevron station in Avondale. She runs the show at the hole-in-the-wall deli where I get way too many lunches and eat far too many calories. It’s absolutely to blame for the cooler surrounding my 6-pack abs. I literally order “a heart attack with a side of diabetes.” That’s a patty melt combo with extra seasoning on the fries and a large sweet tea.
I took the balloons to her on her birthday during the lunch rush simply to embarrass her and myself just a bit. It wasn’t a parade or anything, but when was the last time you saw someone walking through a gas station with a bunch of helium balloons? I wasn’t winning any hide-and-go-seek contests.
A month later, I go back into the Chevron station to order something to make sure I don’t lose any weight and there’s someone new behind the counter. Debbie introduces me as the guy that gave her all the balloons on her birthday. Apparently, she has told everyone she knows and comes into contact with about the guy who bought her balloons for her birthday. I had no idea how much it meant to her, but it meant a lot. She will never forget it.
There was another lady behind the counter who I refer to as “Big Mama.” She works the morning shift and I have never seen her smile – not once. She was standing there next to Debbie, still not smiling, until Debbie told her who I was – the guy who gave her balloons. “Big Mama” didn’t say anything, but she nodded in approval and cracked a big ol’ smile. The kindness Debbie experienced is spreading.
I’m not telling this story to beat my own chest. I spent less than $10 on some balloons – not any sort of major sacrifice. I was going to go there anyway to get lunch, so I didn’t go out of my way. The biggest risk I took was cramming 8 or so balloons in the tiny cab of my itty bitty truck and trying to drive without hitting anyone whenever I merged or turned right.
I’m telling this story to encourage you to forget what you know about “little” things. The biggest impact can happen from the most seemingly insignificant things. And it’s not just the recipient whose life is impacted – the giver is absolutely benefited. You can bet I’m going to start buying more balloons for people’s birthdays. I’m going to remember the lesson I learned with Debbie and take advantage of those little moments. Not every one is going to be a “Debbie moment,” but you aren’t doing it for the moment, you’re doing it for the Debbie’s of this world.
There’s plenty of negativity out there right now to go around. This world could use a whole bunch more balloons. I think we’d find more Debbie’s than we anticipated and this world, their world, our world would begin to become a better place.