The trouble with being helpful
I’ve noticed that making a difference has become rather complicated.
Apparently, it’s no longer enough to do something kind. Ideally, you should photograph it, post it online, add an inspirational caption and make sure the lighting is flattering.
I’m not entirely sure when holding a door open became a potential content strategy, but here we are.
I suppose it’s progress of a sort. Somewhere, somebody is probably building a personal brand around returning a shopping trolley.
Meanwhile, I still consider it a successful morning if I’ve remembered where I parked the car.
The little things we used to take for granted
When I was younger, people seemed to do small favours without making a fuss about them.
Someone would carry a neighbour’s shopping. A stranger would help you pick up something you’d dropped. If you were struggling with a heavy door, somebody might hold it open without expecting a testimonial.
There was no announcement. No carefully worded post about the importance of community. No photograph of two people smiling at the camera while a third person explained the emotional significance of a carrier bag.
You simply helped because someone needed help.
Of course, I’m probably remembering the past through slightly rose-tinted spectacles. People have always been selfish, generous, thoughtless and kind, often before breakfast. And there have always been people who made a great deal of noise about doing very little.
Still, I do wonder whether we’ve become so accustomed to seeing grand gestures displayed everywhere that we sometimes overlook the smaller ones happening right in front of us.
And then I caught myself
The other day, I saw someone helping another person with a problem that clearly wasn’t their responsibility.
My immediate reaction was admiration.
My second reaction was to wonder whether I would have done the same.
My third was to realise that I was standing there thinking about kindness rather than actually doing anything kind.
Typical.
It’s remarkably easy to develop strong opinions about how people ought to behave while remaining comfortably uninvolved ourselves.
I could probably write a whole essay on the subject, preferably from a chair with a cup of coffee within easy reach.
But that would rather prove the point.
No medals required
Perhaps making a difference doesn’t need to be as grand as we imagine.
It might mean checking on a neighbour, listening properly when somebody needs to talk, helping someone carry a heavy bag or simply being patient with a person who’s having a difficult day.
None of these things will necessarily attract applause. They might not even be noticed.
And perhaps that’s part of their value.
You do something helpful because it makes another person’s day a little easier, not because you’re expecting recognition for it.
I realise this is an astonishingly old-fashioned idea. I shall try not to let it interfere with modern life.
So, on Make a Difference Day, I might make a small effort to be a little more helpful and a little less grumpy.
I won’t promise to become a saint. Let’s not get carried away.
But if I can make somebody’s day slightly better without announcing it to the internet, I shall consider that a decent result.
And if somebody holds a door open for me, I’ll remember to say thank you.
Unless I’m distracted by my coffee, of course.
Anyway, what do I know? I’m just a grumpy old man.
What’s the smallest act of kindness someone has done for you that you still remember?
