Philosophy #5: The Creation Of Happiness

When I was a waitress, I used to follow up with people after they got their food.  “Are you happy?” I’d ask.  “Yes,” they would always say, “thank you”.

It’s a small victory, but one nonetheless.  I was in a position to lead people to admit that they were happy. 

Sometimes I could sense a little hesitancy.  It was in these moments that I’d have to add a little positive force to my bearing, urging them over the edge into saying “yes, I am happy”.  And these were the real victories.  

When someone who’s taken aback by the question, because the honest answer would be “no, I’m miserable and chronically expecting the worst in life, actually…” are forced implicitly into admitting that they are being gently taken care of and are fed and safe and warm; that’s a victory. 

Of course, these are all luxuries for many of the people in the world, both presently and throughout history.  And yet, people can walk into a restaurant (just think about the incredible forethought and preparation that’s been afforded to them in this simple act!) and entertain cynical misery.  I came to feel it was my duty to urge them toward admitting happiness over an act of service so well-staged that they could take it for granted.  They could take it for granted so naturally that it no longer engendered any real gratitude that would pierce the hard rind of their selfishness. 

I could sense that their happiness was inextricably linked to their gratitude, and gratitude is a learned behavior.  One that comes with nurturing.  Just like with moms and dads, anyone in the position of serving someone else is also in the position of nurturing them.  That comes with some responsibility to nurture them thoughtfully; nurturing is tantamount to setting someone up for success when they leave your presence. 

I still feel the same way.  People need to be led.  They forget their perspective in the crush and bustle of daily living.  They forget that bus drivers and shoeshiners and window washers are people, too.  They forget that it’s a great gift of civilization to be served.  And they forget that the act of driving a bus is the culmination of millenia of human sweat and effort in creating such technology and systems as to provide them with mass transit.

Being able to serve, being in or creating a service position, and taking advantage of that service, is the crowning achievement of human interaction.  But people forget.  So they need a little positive force added to the bearing of the service person, to bring their lives back into perspective.  And that amounts to a victory, too.