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One of my first invitations to grow, or at least look at life differently, came, gosh, about 10 years ago. I was on a road trip with my friend, Lisa, when she introduced the concept, "Everyone does the best they can all the time."
My first reaction was much like most people when they hear that idea for the first time. "No way!" I could quickly peel off a long list of people who had fallen short or let me down.
"What if they were doing the best they could?" Lisa offered.
I certainly didn't buy into the idea that night or even on that trip. But over time, I definitely have come to believe this. There are three parts to getting the idea.
First, Lisa offered the idea that we don't always have all the information. For instance, imagine you're in a diner and you are getting the most rotten service of your life. The waitress is distracted, rude, and serves your food up cold. "Certainly, that waitress is not doing the best she can!" I would've pointed out to Lisa on that long ago road trip.
"What if that woman just found that her child is sick and her husband is leaving her?" Lisa offered back. "At that moment, with everything that woman is dealing with, she is doing the best she can."
That helped me add the tagline that I believe makes this notion acceptable. "Everybody does the best they can all the time….but it doesn't mean you have to like it."
Over the years, I've tried this theory on with different folks. I usually get the same initial reaction followed by the adamant, "Thinking like that is letting slackers off the hook." Actually, no. It's letting yourself off the hook. Letting yourself off the carousel of misguided expectations and ensuing disappointments. The next time someone doesn't live up to the level you would wish, be it a spouse, friend, or waitress, try telling yourself, "They are doing the best they can." Again, doesn't mean you have to like it. But it will be a reality splashing you in the face like a bucket of cold water. This is it. That's their best. Not what you wish for. This.
I was reminded of this idea Friday in my local market. I had a hankering to make spicy spaghetti sauce, so I stopped by to pick up the ingredients. My efforts in the kitchen rarely lead to a tasty outcome, but hey, I was up for trying.
Anyway, it was time to check out and I did that thing we all seem to do from time to time. I picked THAT line. Yes, the slowest moving one. The one with the seemingly clueless checker. The one that seems to come to a halt while every other line is zipping along.
"Boy, you can sure pick'em," I told myself in frustration. The couple of guys in front of me presented all these challenges like exchanging items and a raincheck for something that had previously been on sale. The checker was slow anyway and she couldn't figure out what she was supposed to key in and she had no bagging help.
I watched this unfold out of the corner of one eye. Out of the corner of the other eye I could see all the other lines zipping along at breakneck speed. Of course, it was too late for me to move, because I had already emptied all my stuff onto the conveyor belt. I was stuck. I was frustrated with this clueless checker.
She eventually went and got a supervisor to show her what to do with the rain check. "Why don't you stay here until she completes our order," one of the guys demanded to the supervisor because someone clearly doesn't know what she's doing." The supervisor and checker finished things up and the guys in front of me were finally on their way.
It was now my turn. Things did not look like they were going to go much better. This woman was slow! And still had no bagging help. "I'm going to move things along," I told myself and moved to the end of the check out stand to at least load the slowly bagged groceries in my cart.
"They should get you some bagging help," I offered as I grabbed the first bag.
Silence. No response. I turned to put the bag in the cart. As I turned back to grab another one, I looked up and saw tears streaming down this young woman's big brown cheeks. I'm not talking a single tear. No, we had some full on crying taking place at check stand 6.
"Oh my goodness," I asked. "Are you having a tough day?"
She nodded, "Yes." Which only made more tears come splashing down.
"Are you new at this job?" I asked,
"No," she shook her head.
"It's just a really hard day," I said, just trying to be understanding.
I was momentarily at a loss for what to do next. Then I thought, "Kleenex!" What do you know, along with all the stuff for spaghetti, I had also reloaded my Kleenex supply for the downstairs bathroom. I quickly reached into one of my bags, opened the box of Kleenex and grabbed some tissues.
"Here you go," I said as I offered her the tissues. I would've gone around and given her a hug, but I quickly figured such a scene of a customer hugging the checker might draw more attention than she needed at that moment. So, I went with reaching out and putting my hand on her arm.
Just about that moment, a friend of a friend happened upon the same check stand with her 1-year-old son. I greeted her and of course, cooed over the baby. The switch of attention apparently was the cold water splash for the checker. As I looked over, I could see she had wiped away the tears and no more were streaming down.
I walked out of the market with my friend's friend and her little boy.
"I'm sorry it's hard," I said to the checker before I walked away. "Hang in there." She nodded yes one last time.
Driving home, I got a little teary myself. I had indeed picked the right check out line. I was just the person who was supposed to be there for the checker and she was just the person to give me a refresher. I'll never know exactly what was going on with her that night, but I do know, she was doing the best she could.
As for the spaghetti I made later that night. Uh, again, let's just say, I did the best I could.
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