Put a Little Love in Your Heart
The state of the world.
There’s no psychic Narcon to pull me back from the brink of the terminal dread I feel when I hear those words. And if it wasn’t bad enough to contemplate how it feels to live in an inferno of destruction and ill-will, I have children. They are bright balls of glowing potential that I can see dimming with every news cycle.
I don’t have the answer, but I have an anecdote.
For eight years, I worked at a typically dysfunctional nonprofit. We were “changing the world”. So apparently we should have been energized and thrilled to get to work every day. But of course that’s not how people work.
Many of us were unhappy
. You know that feeling, when you’re starting to bloom, and then your boss pours Roundup all over your desk? There was a lot of that happening.
As my own situation devolved, my bright spot was being part of the Work Culture Committee. We were going to make our organization stronger, faster, better than before! Starting with employee recognition. It seemed like a simple way to supercharge morale boosting.
We met with every team, we asked questions, we listened. We had answers. We sent our proposal to the leadership team, where it died upon arrival.
Frustrated, I started my own underground employee recognition program. (I’d forgotten that sneakiness is an adrenalin booster; I recommend it when you’re feeling uninspired.)
I devised three phases. The first was to put a bright yellow smiley face ping pong ball on the desk, forklift and driver’s seat of every employee. (No mean feat, as we were divided into four offices across the state. I enlisted elves.)
I feel I should break into this heartwarming story to mention that plastic ping pong balls would NOT be part of any plan I’d currently make. Half of them are probably bobbing in the ocean as we speak. Sorry, Earth.
Phase two was the beating heart of the enterprise. I sent anonymous love notes to my 300+ coworkers. Each started with the words “I love working with you because…”. Because you have the best playlist in the building. Because you wear nutty outfits on every holiday. Because I can hear you laughing from the other side of the building. I snuck these onto desks when no one was looking. I sent them anonymously through interoffice mail.
It was a stretch, at times. It forced me to learn about people I had little to no contact with. I started to notice traits and quirks. There’s something to love about everyone, you know? But you have to see them first. At a time when my life seemed to be swirling dangerously close to an enormous drain, this project gave me infinite reasons to feel hopeful.
Walking around the building on a Saturday, I saw those notecards pinned to bulletin boards and propped against computer monitors. People were talking, comparing notes, and trying to figure out who was behind it all. I felt a glimmer of joy and anticipation in the hallways.
I started on phase three, but left before it really gained momentum. I made a couple of Frankenstein trophies and set them on the desks of a couple of unsung heroes. The idea was that they’d keep them for a while, then add another piece of flare and pass them to someone they admired. A moveable feast, if you will. I still love that idea, which I’m fairly sure I stole from someone or other.
It was time for a change for me. I wasn’t ready. I was dragging my heels so hard I was digging grooves into the industrial carpet, but events conspired. I am forever grateful to the doctor who looked me in the eye and said, “It’s not my place to tell you what to do, but I think you should quit that job.” Another unexpected burst of love.
I left that job feeling like I’d made the place a tiny bit better. Which is about all I can do for the world right now. I’m committing tiny acts of love and hoping for chain reactions.