Being Nice There are nice people all around us. It just takes - TopicsExpress



          

Being Nice There are nice people all around us. It just takes looking and paying attention. They are in offices, at homes, and at bus stops. At work, these folks go the extra mile and make a task seem effortless. Being nice has payoffs. Its just that we cant always measure it in material terms. One day I saw for myself what nice means. That it has everything to do with how we interact with one another and how we manage our conflicts. I was driving home from work one evening. The road was congested and cars lined up like ants. I came to the familiar stop sign. Normally Id stop, seek the cops blessing and wait or go. Today I zoomed past her barely missing the officers toes. Then I heard the whistle. I knew she was there, I had seen her a gazillion times. What happened? The fact is Id been reckless, too reckless to notice that the woman in uniform was likely a mom, a professional who worked rain or shine and like most people she wanted to go home to her family: like me. I, on the other hand knew one thing: to beat rush hour and get on the HOV lane. Why hadnt I noticed her gigantic stop sign? But hind sight is 20/20. The officer pulled me over. I got into an empty lot. She asked for papers. Just hand them over, I told myself. Dont plead and, please, no explanation. I plead and offer explanation. It all spills out like a water balloon on the ground. I am sorry, I say sheepishly. I didnt mean to. Being 15 minutes early knocked my rhythm, officer. The traffic being lighter, I did not see you. Lame, but honest, and spoken in full surrender: Come, what may. The cop seemed untouched. She walked to and from her car. She called on her phone. She checked her monitor. She called again. I waited morosely. No home. No hot tea. I sighed. The burden was mine and mine alone. After what seemed like an eternity the cop spoke: Ok. Ill let you off with a verbal warning. But you could have run over me maam. I want to go home at the end of the day. I have 4 babies. Point taken human to human, not cop to offender. She believed me. She connected to my truth. Something moved inside. The fact I did not receive a citation was small compared to the larger narrative: It was the tone of our interaction and how we had affected a different outcome. By shifting our individual positions, we had forged a common good: I had gained her trust while she had drawn me to her inherent humanity and our common goals. There remains, perhaps, an explanation of police quotas and plain old luck. I prefer the subtler one. In it all win, there are no losers. Now, every time I pass the junction I look out for my cop. I also roll down my window and wave at her. She waves back, her surprise quickly turning into a smile. She knows me. And I know her. Thats for sure.
Posted on: Thu, 30 Jan 2014 17:57:23 +0000

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