Frank’s New Approach to Accepting Help
It’s More “Give” Than “Take”
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Listen to Frank’s story.
Frank was running low on gas and was still 20 miles from home. It was a dark and cold November afternoon in 1993. He didn't want to stop to gas up because he was listening to an important University of Wisconsin/Ohio State football game on his car radio and wanted to get home to watch it on TV with his wife, Kate.
Besides, Frank dreaded self-service gas stations – largely because they were not service stations anymore. Full service stations were a rarity, and Frank had the location of every one of them along his frequently traveled routes mapped out in his mind.
But, filling his car with gas was no big deal. Frank did it all the time. So, he pulled off the freeway, deciding to stop at a new Amoco station which took credit cards at the pump.
How convenient, Frank thought. Paying at the pump will, at least, save him time (getting his crutches out of the car, walking to the store's counter, fiddling in his pants pocket to find his billfold etc. – all remnants of dealing with childhood polio he contracted in 1954).
JOIN OUR LIVE CHAT on 11/10/2024. Check my new, amusing social predicament tale, which is first available for all of us on Sunday’s (11/10/2024) live chat at 1:00 p.m. central. Watch your email on Saturday noon and Sunday noon for the link to the 1:00 Sunday live chat. - Jim Hasse
At the pump, Frank turned off the car but left his radio on and the car door open, thinking he would listen to the game while taking only a few minutes to fill his tank.
Fully aware of his lack of technological knowledge, Frank carefully read the instructions on the pump, popped the most common credit card he had into the machine and watched for instructions. Card not valid, it replied. A second and a third try yielded the same results.
Ohio State was on Wisconsin's 10-yard line.
Frank finally pushed, "Pay Inside," filled his gas tank and popped back into the car to drive up to the convenience store's front door.
His car wouldn't start.
It was then that Frank realized that he had left his headlights on. He turned both the lights and radio off and tried again. Nothing. Were the batteries that weak? Frank had just had his 1990 Maxima winterized the day before.
He sat there for a minute, thinking it would turn over after a little bit of rest. No. It was dead.
The people inside the store were watching. Frank could feel it. He could imagine what they were saying inside the store. Something like, "The guy doesn't have a brain in his head."
Suddenly, a woman from inside the store popped out in a ragged coat, swept up to Frank's window, grabbed his credit card, and ran back to the store.
When she returned with his receipt, she realized Frank had worn the battery down even more. "Just stay in the car," she said, the chilly wind blowing her graying hair. "I'll jump ya."
She went back to the store and came out, ran to what Frank assumed was her personal car (a rusty vintage-70s Pontiac), parked it nose-to-nose with his car and placed her jumper cables on Frank's terminals.
He tried to start his car again. Nothing.
She ran back to the store, and Frank began looking for his AAA card and how much cash he had.
But, then, suddenly she was back. She switched the jumper cables on Frank's terminals, he turned the key on his ignition, and his car started.
Frank handed her a $20 bill with a "thank you." His words seemed hollow. She wouldn't take the money at first, but Frank insisted.
Another motorist in the next lane, who had watched the whole episode while she was gassing up, summed it up better. "That's service," she cheerfully called out to the pair.
That night, Frank wrote in his diary:
"We all need experiences that validate what is good about us, but we don't always get them or recognize them in our daily rush.
"I'm sometimes in a position of quiet desperation -- in real need of help, and many times there is that special someone who takes a few minutes to truly help me.
"As our paths cross, we provide a 'jump start' for each other and then go our separate ways -- renewed with the spark of what it is to be human. We leave each other with a feeling of completeness we all long for but seldom experience on a daily basis.
"Those 'jump starts' often stick with us and recharge us every time we remember them."
Now at 77, Frank remains healthy but has a lengthy list of similar instances when strangers took the time to help him when he was truly in trouble. But he no longer feels obligated to compensate those who help with a cash handout.
He now believes the simple gift of giving generates a blissful feeling that can linger well beyond the actual episode.
In fact, age has taught him that embracing one's vulnerability and receiving help gracefully from others is an act of lasting love that can live beyond one's years.
Frank's takeaway tip from his story: Give others an opportunity to achieve a feeling of completeness by gracefully accepting their help.
Here’s to mature-adult living!
Jim Hasse, ABC, GCDF retired, author of “52 Shades of Graying”
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On a motorcycle trip that took me around Crater Lake National Park in Oregon, I pulled over to watch the sun set over the lake. The shoulder was loose gravel that rolled into a rather steep and deep decline. While I was sitting on the bike, it started to slip a couple of inches down the slope so I jumped off to the down side and tried to hold it back. Just as my boots started slipping more and the wheels went down another foot, a young couple in Volkswagen came by and helped stop the slide and get my bike back on the road. This road on the east side of the lake was not heavily travelled, so this was a helluva good break for me. Never forgot them and I try to pay it forward whenever I encounter a traveler in distress. And, note...the young folks who saved me were from Minnesota. (Maybe they're living at the Pillars now. Who knows? )
It’s tough to get a taxi in midtown Manhattan.
It’s even tougher when, in a group of three, you have one guy (me) with cerebral palsy who is using a collapsible mobility scooter and a visually impaired colleague with a white walking cane.
After several taxis either ignored us or sped away after the drivers recognized our special circumstances, our guy with the cane volunteered to join me in temporarily blending into the background and have his wife, who was traveling with us, take the lead in flagging the next taxi coming around the bend.
She was wearing a short skirt and had nice legs. She began flashing her legs very convincingly, and a taxi finally stopped.
After quickly showing our “captured” driver our special needs, he allowed us to pile into the back seat. My scooter went into the trunk with no problem.
We gratefully gave him a generous tip, and I could see the initial concern on his face melt into a combination of relief, pride and appreciation.
* When have you accepted help from someone, who you now realize, also gained a good feeling by providing it?