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One day I said "Hello" to the man who delivered printed office forms to our small company. There was no answer -- so I looked at him sharply. I was dismayed and horrified by what I saw. There before me stood a stereotypical picture out of the 1860s. A tall, slender black man in his middle twenties, he was a parody of "shiftlessness". His sneakers were torn and dirty, his shirt smelled of old sweat, and his tightly curled short hair was literally full of lint. He also shuffled as he walked, making a kind of harsh scuffing sound, and when I said hello, and looked at him, I saw that his head hung down, his shoulders were rounded, and his eyes were focused firmly on the floor. I had recently read about the work of Martin Buber, trying to grasp his concept of "I and Thou". Buber seemed to be saying that by simply seeing others, really seeing them, as another worthy human being, we could transform daily experience with rich moments of connection. I decided that I would connect with this man, no matter what, and that I would watch to see what happened. I said Hello again, and then asked his name. "Eric..." he mumbled, still staring at the floor. "THANK YOU, Eric," I said slowly and in a focused way, as I took the package from him. He shuffled off without a backwards glance. That day, I issued an order to my staff: whenever Eric arrived to drop off a print order, he was to be sent directly to my office. As the CEO and President of the company, I was often in meetings, or on the phone when Eric arrived. Nonetheless, he was always sent in to see me. And I made sure to greet him personally when he arrived. I always said, "Hello Eric. It is good to see you!" I watched as slowly, day by day, Eric's posture began to change. He entered my office confidently, and no longer stared at the floor. He looked back at me. "Hello, M'am" he said one day, after a few weeks of my greetings. "My name is Ruth," I countered. "I would be glad if you called me that." He glanced away again, clearly embarrassed. "Yes, Miss Ruth," he replied in a mumble. I decided that was fine, given his deep South background, and the age difference between us. "Thank you, Eric," I said again. Over the next few months, I could see Eric visibly brighten and relax as he entered my office. His shoulders were held back, his neck and head high. "Hello there, Miss Ruth," he'd say, often before I could greet him. "Nasty weather out there, isn't it?" I'd venture on a stormy day. "Sure is, M'am!" he would reply, laughing. We were now on friendly terms. One day, I saw he had new, clean sneakers. "Eric, those are very nice sneakers. New?" "Yes, Miss Ruth, they are." Eric beamed. "Well," I said, "they look great." A few days later, I noticed that Eric's tab collar shirt was clean, pressed and smelled sweet. "Wow," I said, "I see you've got a new shirt to go with those spiffy sneakers!" He grinned, showing fine white teeth. "Yes, M'am!" he fairly sang. "Ironed it myself." Now, the changes came quickly. His hair, always lint enhanced and uncombed, was suddenly clean, brushed and glowing with health. His hands were well groomed and clean. Each time he arrived, he looked more "put together" and self-aware. "Tell me something about yourself," I said one day. "Oh," he replied shyly, "I got a promotion at work. They told me I was doing my job better and they appreciated it." "Wow," I said happily. "That's wonderful." "It's my first raise, ever," he told me confidentially. "Congratulations, Eric. I know you deserved it!" I was elated. Our contact continued for several years in the same manner. Eric continued to progress in his life in remarkable ways. He took responsibility for his young daughter, and told me proudly when Carissa made the honor roll at her grammar school. During the 22 years I ran my small company, Eric continued to work for the printing company, finally managing a delivery crew of 4 drivers. He made sure that he always delivered our orders personally, always stopping in to see me in the executive office. He drove his first new car into our parking lot and bounded up the steps to tell me, his voice full of excitement. He looked like a completely different man from the Eric I'd seen 6 years earlier. He was still a tall, slim black man, but just about everything else was different. Self-confidence, natural friendliness, and good humor shone from his eyes, and radiated out towards everyone he met. He told me that his daughter was taking violin lessons, loved math and had applied to college. She would be the first family member to have that advantage. His love and pride lit up his face as he spoke. At this stage of our relationship, Eric and I invariably gave each other a hug at the end of our encounters. I hugged him that day, and gave a huge interior sigh of contentment and joy: Buber had been so right. Merely SEEING another human being can indeed have a profound effect. Where Eric gained a new life, I gained a new friend and a deeper appreciation of my fellow human beings. Comment on this story on our public message board |
