We all hold such power–to make someone smile, to destroy someone’s confidence, to heal, to injure. During my training at Disney World about a million years ago, we were reminded over and over again that we had an incredible secret power; we could make or ruin a person’s day. I have so many wonderful memories of working there, of making people laugh, of helping parents find their lost children, of recommending activities, places to eat, overlooked treasures. I’m in hundreds of thousands of pictures that I’ll never see. I promise you, though, that I’m smiling, laughing, talking to strangers in every one of them. Sometimes, I am sure, I was caught mid-silly dance or goofy face at a child.
Disney taught me how to recognize that secret power and how to wield it for good. The corporate world beat me up, encouraged–NO, expected–me to lean into the negative. When I walked away from corporate work, I shed all that with relief. Being mean is a heavy burden (and so aging). It’s so much easier, and so much more fun, to be kind.
Kindness lifts people up. It also has the weirdly reciprocal effect of making the giver feel good, too. Last summer, a young woman sitting near me at the coffee shop was wearing a charming skirt. I told her that. She thanked me and said, “It’s vintage!” She was so proud. It still makes me smile to think of that three- or four-second interaction. I have many of those.
I read something recently about the uptick of ChatGPT use by, primarily, men. The article suggested that men are more susceptible to the manipulation that can exist behind flattery because women, from an early age, learn to recognize it, whereas men are compliment-starved. I tested that theory, very unscientifically, on my children and discovered that they concur. My eldest even said that he can remember the last time he received a compliment from someone (other than me, of course), six weeks ago, and it was about a shirt he wore.
When I give compliments, which I do readily, I’m always interested to see the different ways people respond. Last week, I complimented a woman’s outfit. She laughed, grabbed my arm, and thanked me with a big smile. The last time I complimented something about a man, he blushed, absolutely astonished by my comment. Here’s the most important thing, I NEVER, NEVER, NEVER tell someone that they’re beautiful or handsome. I pick out something I like and I tell the person. It’s easy. Your hair looks great. I love your shirt. I would die for those shoes. Your outfit is chef’s kiss. You should do an insta shoot with KeepPittsburghDope. I love your laugh. Your joy is making me smile (I said that to a group standing together, laughing).
Sometimes–well, usually–I’m incredibly awkward but that doesn’t stop me. Better an awkward compliment than a missed opportunity to be kind.
Yesterday was a terrible, horrible, no-good day. Looking back, I can recognize that, in fact, 19 of 20 things went really well. Like many humans, though, I find myself focusing on the one thing that did not go well and that it is 100% my fault that it didn’t. The worst part of it going wrong, though, is that it went wrong in front of a man who smugly told me that it wouldn’t go right, as it was going wrong. He was so…mean. It’s rarely necessary to be mean (except to billionaires, whose money-hoarding is destroying the lives of millions who are barely surviving–but we’re not talking about that right now). That man was so pleased to announce, over and over, that I was wrong. And I was, which just makes his unkindness more bitter. He could have been not-a-dick. He could have been but he chose to lean into being mean. We both knew he was right. I acknowledged his rightness with a smile, my jaw clenched so tight it could have held back the Colorado River. I was gracious, even apologetic. He was so mean. So mean. It ruined my day. Yes, I am well aware that I gave a stranger power over me. See the first paragraph. Total strangers have that secret power. You have it. I have it.
So, here’s my advice, which you didn’t ask for but I promise is actually easy to follow: be nice. There’s a great poem “Watching My Friend Pretend Her Heart Is Not Breaking,” by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer. ‘There are a great many reasons to treat each other with great tenderness.’ All of us…I’ll say it again for those who are skimming…ALL OF US are going through things.
Use your secret power well.
Much love.
