By Peter DeHaan
On a weekend trip my wife and I found ourselves at a fast-food restaurant for breakfast. “I’ll have a number 10,” I decisively told the perky teenage girl at the counter. She acknowledged my request and smiled pleasantly. This encouraged me to make small talk while my wife contemplated her choices. Not fully awake I said something apparently mildly humorous, causing her to laugh and brighten her smile. “What a pleasant way to start my day,” I thought, glancing at her name tag; it said, “Amber.”
My wife conceded that what she wanted wasn’t part of a meal deal, nor were the items listed individually. Amber was helpful. “Tell me what you want and I will see what I can do.”
My wife listed three disparate items and Amber began pushing buttons on her cash register. After a series of thoughtful keystrokes, she announced she had accomplished my wife’s request. We paid for our meal and stepped aside to wait for it.
As the people behind us placed their order, Amber’s friendly demeanor continued to capture my attention. Suddenly she saw someone out of the corner of her eye. Her smile widened as she looked up and her face beamed, “Good morning, Jimmy,” she excitedly called out. In the split second that it took for my glance to move from Amber to Jimmy, I anticipated whom I might see. Certainly, he would be her peer, perhaps a jock or maybe a prep, possibly even her boyfriend.
I was wrong. Jimmy was an older man with a weathered face, worn clothes, and a considerable limp. He moved forward with deliberate effort, alternating between a herky-jerky lunge followed by a short shuffle. As he made his way across the room, he did not attempt to get in line but headed straight to an open space at the counter near Amber.
With considerable effort, he produced a handful of coins and cupped them in his twisted hand. He tipped his hand forward and with careful effort, gave it a little shake. Two coins spilled out onto the counter and then a third. As if not satisfied with his progress, he poked his gnarled index finger into his open hand and moved it around as though stirring a pot. Then he flicked a fourth coin onto the counter, stirred some more, and released a fifth. With the last coin still rattling on the counter, Amber was there. She picked up the change, rang up an unspoken order, pulled a dime from the cash drawer, and carefully dropped it into Jimmy’s still cupped hand.
What happened next made me curious. Amber reached under the counter and pulled out a handful of supplies. Then she turned to the coffee pot behind her and laid the contents of her hand on the table – two containers of cream and several packs of sugar. This seemed backwards and inefficient – pour the coffee first, then get the additives. Amber grabbed a coffee cup and filled it half full. Even more curious. Did Jimmy only want a half of a cup? She then picked up one of the creams, gave it a brisk shake, meticulously opened it, and carefully emptied its contents into the cup. Then she repeated the procedure with the second cream.
Amber glanced around the room to see if anyone else needed her assistance. Assured that she was not neglecting another customer’s need, she picked up a pack of sugar, shook its contents to the bottom and prudently tore off the top, so as to not waste any, pouring every granule into the coffee. She repeated this a second time, but then another customer diverted her attention from Jimmy’s coffee. She returned to the partial cup and added two more sugars. But her task was still not complete. Amber grabbed a stir stick and thoroughly mixed the contents. Upon being satisfied with the results, she topped off the amalgamation with more coffee, put on a lid, and presented it to a grateful Jimmy.
She didn’t do any of this begrudgingly or with indifference but with all the care and precision of someone making their own cup of coffee. She was there to serve Jimmy, and she did so happily and without hesitation. Her kindness touched me. Such a gesture was surely not found in the restaurant’s efficiency manual, but it was the right thing to do. Amber’s attitude established the framework for the rest of my day. If her example affected me so much, I can only guess what it did for Jimmy.
I imagine that, when Jimmy woke up that morning, there was no question in his mind where he would go for coffee. I surmise that his morning trek to the restaurant was routine. I suspect, however, that he wondered who would wait on him. He might have said to himself, “I hope Amber’s working today. She treats me like I’m special; my whole day goes better when she gets me my coffee.”
Likewise, I wonder what Amber thought before work that morning. Did she make an intentional decision to have a positive attitude, thereby producing a difference in the lives of those with whom she came into contact? She may have, but I suspect it wasn’t necessary. I think her attitude of cheerfully going the extra mile was so much a part of her that it had become habit. While I was focused on my own needs, Amber’s attitude was to focus on those around her. And what a difference she made, not only for Jimmy and for me but for the other customers and her co-workers as well.
I was challenged by all this. My attitude as I start each day, no doubt, affects how my day goes and has a ripple effect on those around me. Though it’s unlikely I will ever match Amber’s personable, outgoing disposition, I can aspire to her positive, helpful, serving attitude.
Do you have someone like Amber working in your organization? What if all your staff was like Amber? Then customer satisfaction would be exceedingly high, complaints and service problems would be non-existent, and your company would be an even greater place to work.
Whether it’s pouring coffee or doing something else, we all can have employees like Amber – and it’s not hard. All it takes is an intentional effort to have a positive attitude. That positive attitude starts with you, and it can start today!
Peter DeHaan is a magazine publisher by day and a writer by night. Visit www.peterdehaan.com to receive his newsletter, read his blog, or connect on social media.