No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.
I've noticed lately that I've been telling old fart stories (OFS). You know the kind I mean. Stuff that happened when most of the listeners were in diapers - if not just a twinkle in their fathers' eye. (That's an old fart expression, BTW.) Often told in extreme detail by a person in authority, OFS are meant to impart wisdom, but more often than not, evoke polite yawns.
Having been the victim of old fart stories all my life, I now claim the right in my near dotage to tell a few myself. Since this a digital medium, asynchronous, you lucky whipper-snappers don't even have to pretend to be polite. You can just go on to the next blog post, tweet, Facebook post, or porn site immediately. Lucky you.
Anyway, here's an OFS.
25 years ago I was the high school librarian in St. Peter, MN. The town was, and still is, the home to a regional treatment center for sex offenders. At the time, its juvenile wing was staffed by two lovely young women, Ann and Theresa. Despite the fact I had no formal responsibility at the treatment center at all, I would still on occasion drive over and help these two teachers with their computer problems - being the guru of all things Apple IIe that I was. And admirer of lovely young women.
Fast forward to 2014. I gave my annual departmental report to the school board Monday night. It was well received, and the school board president, Ann, reminded me that we've worked together for about 25 years. Yes, the same Ann that I helped format a floppy disk and navigate AppleWorks in 1989, is now my district's school board chair.
Here's the thing. Be nice to everyone. It's the right thing to do.
But it's also the practical thing to do since you never know who might eventually become your boss.
Thus endeth the OFS.