R-E-S-P-E-C-T

This is the final test of a gentleman: his respect for those who can be of no possible service to him.
William Lyon Phelps

The other day I was in the grocery store checkout line. I watched as the customer two in front of me stood by while the checker scanned and bagged her groceries. There was no eye contact, no exchange of words, as a matter of fact, the customer was chatting away on her cell phone. The cashier did her work well and efficiently, the customer ran her credit card quickly through the card machine, pocketed her receipt, grabbed her groceries and walked away still on her phone, not even a thank you. The gentleman in front of me stepped up to checkout and I watched as the scenario repeated itself, although he was making notes on his iPhone, not actually chatting on it. He did manage to mumble a thank you as he turned and walked away. It was as if the cashier had become part of the machinery instead of a living, breathing human being.

My turn came to checkout. I looked across the counter. My cashier’s nametag read “Earlene” in big red letters.

“Hi Earlene” I said.

Our eyes met.

“Hi”.

“Is that a picture of your little one on the charm on your bracelet?” I asked.

Bingo, the “machine” turned human. A smile that went ear to ear lit up her beautiful face.

“Why yes it is!”

Those words started an amazing conversation that included child-rearing, crazy parents at little league games, the problems with the economy, and how to turn the Redskins’ losing streak around. If it had taken a few more minutes to finish ringing up my grocery order, I think we might have been able to straighten out the problems up on Capitol Hill.

Earlene bagged the last few items and came around the end of the counter with my receipt and cart. I smiled and put up my hand to high five her. Our hands smacked.

“Thanks Earlene, not only have I finished my grocery shopping, but we’ve also solved most of the world’s problems.” I laughed.

“See you soon, have a great day,” she said as she waved and returned to her station.

The next customer was too busy with her baby to notice the busy hands scanning and bagging her order or even acknowledge the smile Earlene had flashed her. Earlene’s smile dissipated and the machine-like, efficient, faceless cashier returned. It made me realize how little it takes to make a moment matter for someone. It also made me realize how easy it is to live in a bubble, to not connect with those around me.

It takes a lot of people to make my world “work”. There’s my mail carrier, Henry (yes, I know his name and I know he likes to travel with two of his nephews since he doesn’t have kids of his own). There’s my UPS guy—love when the brown truck pulls up with a package! I don’t know his name, but when we see each other at the neighborhood Starbucks he always says, “Hey there 1808 (my address number)” and we chat a minute. When I visit my bank, my teller and I manage, even through the glass window and car exhaust at the drive-thru, to smile and catch up for a few seconds. I try to thank my garbage collectors, the people who service my lawn, and the “angels” who clean my house once a month. It’s called respect. It’s called decency. It’s called community. But, perhaps most importantly, it’s called loving your neighbor.

I know that I can get caught up in my own little world. It’s easy to forget how many people make my life easier, and how blessed I am by many people in many places. Many of these people I don’t know personally, some I’m starting to know little by little as I pass through their checkout line or collect my mail. They are not just part of the machinery, they are not faceless, nor are their lives meaningless. Each one of them has a story, each one of them is part of my story. I think living in community makes life so much nicer, and honestly there are some amazing people out there. Take Earlene, she’s got a winning smile, can-do spirit, great ideas, and an admirable work ethic; sounds perfect, I’m thinking someone like her could shake things up a bit in 2012. Earlene for President, it’s got a nice ring to it! You never know who’s bagging your groceries!