A hand to hold, a shoulder to lean on. An offered ear eager to listen. You can’t fix everything, some things can’t be remedied at all, however, just being there, being open and present, can be enough to help one get past the initial shock, frustration, and fear that accompanies a scary situation. 

I can’t provide deep technical support to a customer. Front-line customer service representatives typically aren’t the ones that will resolve high-level escalated issues. The stewardess can’t calm the skies, the server can’t make the food arrive faster, and the guy or gal at the front desk doesn’t have a magic wand that will make your car magically be repaired yesterday. 

But what we all do have is simple and free. We all have the capacity to show compassion and to give a moment of our time to reassure, provide a sense of security, and comfort to those who cross our paths. 

Saturday was the day to get chores done and errands out of the way. An early morning youth football game (we won), a trip to search for treasures at the local consignment store, followed by grocery shopping, and a plan to deep clean at least one room in the house. It was still fairly early in the afternoon when I loaded the weekly rations into the back of the car. I would be home and unloaded with plenty of time to accomplish the rest of my to-do list and possibly still be able to squeeze in some R&R with the hubby before the exhaustion of the day took over. 

As I reversed from my parking spot, I spotted an elderly man who was having trouble walking. I quickly pulled back in, threw the car in park, and hopped out to help. Luckily, three guys were able to catch Dave before he fell to the pavement. As they struggled to get him to his vehicle (his legs were limp, and the guys were bearing all the weight), I jumped in front to provide some stability and grabbed his belt. We got him to the car just before his legs buckled from the pressure. The men stayed with Dave as I ran back into the store, directed the service desk to call for help, and page his wife over the intercom. I raced up and down aisle after aisle bellowing for Carol until I found her in the chip aisle. I explained that her husband was experiencing an issue in the parking lot as we made our way to the exit. She left her cart at the entryway and, with her elbow in my hand, we made our way to her husband. 

One of the men had stayed with Dave until we returned. Dave was less than pleasant when informed that emergency services had been called. He was adamant that he was fine, he just needed some time to collect his bearings, and that Carol should go finish her shopping as they were out of bananas and coffee. 

As Carol hesitantly shuffled back into the store and the other man retreated to his own vehicle, I had to make a choice. Do I believe that this older gentleman with mobility issues will in fact be fine and head home to continue my day? Or do I stay? I can’t make his legs work, I likely can’t catch him if he falls. Short of watching him breathe, I have no training in checking vitals or knowing what his actual health status is. I can’t fix him, but I can hunker down, settle in and simply be there. 

Dave sat upon the bumper, occasionally trying to readjust and using my shoulder as support. We came to terms with the fact that his legs and my arms weren’t strong enough to move him to the driver seat. So we talked. We talked about his time in the service, and their children and their children’s children. I learned about his life with Carol, their travels, and how they ended up where they are today. He was less focused on the feeling of helplessness and almost completely distracted from the approaching wailing sirens. 

By the time the EMT’s arrived, Carol was returning. Dave was bombarded with questions, probes, and leads, as well as pleas to go agree to go get checked out at the hospital. After much hesitation, he was loaded into the back of the ambulance. As Carol was being escorted to the front of the emergency vehicle, she turned to me, grabbed my hand, and said “Thank You for being here.” 

I couldn’t fix anything. I didn’t have the ability to cure the man, or even make him more comfortable. But I gave what I could. A literal shoulder to lean on, and a hand to hold, my time and my compassion. 

Sometimes just being there to simply listen is enough to get someone through the first moments of a scary, unpleasant, and unexpected ordeal. 

Days later, I sit and hope that Dave and Carol made it back home and all is well. I will likely never know what happened next, but I will find comfort in knowing that I was there. 

To my fellow service providers, fixers, helpers, and people in general: Be present, have compassion, and embrace your humanity. Our time is precious, yet powerful when we choose to share it.