Be Like BESSIE!

Be Like Bessie!

“Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.”―Ralph Waldo Emerson

A few days each week during the winter I work in a giant laboratory studying the behavior of vast numbers of people. My specific areas of interest are the characteristics of patience and kindness while in pursuit of happiness and outdoor adventure. More specifically, I am a greeter at a New England ski area. From this vantage point I have face-to-face contact with hundreds of men, women and children of all ages. The stories my colleagues and I collect could fill a book. (Hey, that’s an idea!)

One of a Greeter’s responsibilities, beyond welcoming guests and answering basic questions, is to be sure each visitor’s wait in the line to purchase lift tickets is as short as possible, hopefully no more that 7-15 minutes on the most crowded days. This is no mean feat in the age of data collection required for the issuance of a re-usable RFID card that can be detected by a scanner in the pocket of even the most high tech parka. We also draw the short straw sometimes and have to facilitate traffic flow in the “drop off” area. If the entire ski area is the laboratory, then this particular area is the active Petri dish. . Maybe we should put up a sign that says, “Remember! Children are watching and listening.”

If I was looking to hire people to build a team for a task that required intense, cooperative effort in a stressful situation, I’d insist on seeing videos of how these job candidates handled their cars, friends, family and Greeters in the “drop off” area. Surely I’d learn more than any resume or interview could reveal.

Since we Greeters spend most of our time managing ticket lines, that’s where the best stories come from. Just the other day a person was in such a hurry to get his ticket that instead of walking through the short, simple, ten-foot, back and forth maze to the ticket window, this “gentleman” ducked under the ropes to take a more direct route, knocking over several stanchions, which he did not fix. He may have saved a full three seconds getting to the ticket window. I just smiled at him sympathetically. You know, one of those smiles that says, “I hope you get better soon.”

We greeters pick up a wonderful assortment of sound bites or snippets from the hundreds of conversations that swirl around us. My all-time favorite came from two brothers, strolling past with their arms on each other’s shoulders. The older brother looked at his younger sibling and said, “Hey, your wife’s happy and your girlfriend’s happy. I think everything is going to be fine.” Then they disappeared into the crowd leaving me with a number of questions that will forever go unanswered.

I’ve been thinking of asking management to position a large video screen in the ticket line waiting area showing highlights of good and bad behavior of guests collected over the course of the winter season. We would obscure the faces to prevent law suits, but the instructional value would be powerful…and highly entertaining.

Most people waiting in line to purchase tickets fall into one of three categories:

Group A. “I am too important to have to wait in line with all of these other people. Can’t you do something?”

Group B. “It’s too bad the wait is so long. Have you considered ways that might make things move more efficiently?”

Group C. “I’m not at work, I’m in a beautiful place and eventually we are going to have a great day on the slopes.”

The hybrid of groups B and C is my personal favorite. By the way, guests can purchase their tickets online at a reduced price and eliminate or greatly shorten their wait in line. It’s a reward for those thoughtful people who plan ahead. Let’s call this Group S for smart.

So how does this all tie in with BESSIE’S STORY? It’s simple. Bessie is the model of patience. She’ll stand with her nose to a door calmly and peacefully if she wants to go outside. When it’s time for breakfast or dinner Bessie sits like an angel without barking, whining or grumbling. In her dark, fragrant world she somehow just knows that we’re going to do the best we can to take care of her needs. When we are going somewhere in the car she’ll hop in and sit calmly as long as necessary. Very few people can follow her example of poise and good manners. The only time Bessie ever acts or behaves as if she is the most important piece of the puzzle is when someone is playing retrieving games with her. She can be a little antsy during these times, but we understand.

I’ve said it before. The best way to make friends and influence people is to BE LIKE BESSIE. It’s not as easy as it sounds.

“Who would you impress if the world was blind?”― Shannon L. Alder

A few days each week during the winter season I add structure and seek camaraderie by working as an outdoor Greeter at a nearby ski area owned by Vail Resorts. The compensation is modest, but Ashley and I also receive EPIC Passes that allow us to snowboard free at any of the 37 Vail Resorts. It’s a win-win.

The paradox is amusing – a giant corporation that trades on the NYSE owns and manages a comparatively small New Hampshire ski mountain. Their business plan must explain the logic, yet the cultural dissonance is striking. It’s a bit like going to the opera in cut-offs and a t-shirt, I suppose.

A few years ago, when the mountain was a family-owned operation, Greeters were referred to as Ambassadors. That has a much more distinguished sound to it, don’t you think? When friends inquired about how I was keeping busy in retirement, I’d share that among other things I was serving as an Ambassador and leave it to them to guess which country. Now, when they learn I am a Greeter the only options beyond the ski area are Costco, Walmart and Best Buy. It’s just not the same.

One of a Greeter’s responsibilities is to remind people to properly wear their face coverings. Almost everyone who forgets this simple directive appreciates the reminder and immediately complies. But there are always a few who, despite the flashing sign at the Mountain’s entrance and numerous other reminders stating that face coverings are required, enjoy the confrontation that accompanies non-compliance. These are also the people who cut you off in traffic, park illegally in handicap areas or go the wrong direction down the aisle in the supermarket because, well, because. We’ll leave it at that.

Skiing and snowboarding are at their simple, elegant, best when carving first tracks in fresh powder. Beyond that these sports can inspire a significant investment to own appropriate, high-tech equipment that enables you to ski and ride beyond your physical limits and look cool in the process. People spend quite a bit of money to attain the “right” look in their gear. Attaining the right look is an oxymoron this year because of the required face coverings. It’s a rule. You’ll lose your ticket if you don’t comply. Add the requisite goggles and helmet and everyone looks pretty much the same. You can stand next to Brad Pitt, Julia Roberts or your best friend in the lift line and not know it.

Vanity, however, seems to have no bounds. Despite the assured anonymity that is part of a ski or snowboard outing this year, people still shop, some voraciously, at the mountain’s retail store. Something catches their eye and they must have one, or maybe a few. I know the lady who runs the ski shop and am happy for her that vanity has not been affected by the Corona Virus, but that’s not the point.

I now better understand how Bessie processes her world. Since she is blind, more important factors come into play, such as a person’s tone of voice, the sincerity of what they are saying and if the tone matches their actions. Bessie has radar to detect a phony. The old girl can’t be fooled, bless her heart, because she senses the world at a deeper level. Bess doesn’t care one tiny bit about your appearance, it’s actions that speak to her. The 80s retro skier in a colorful one-piece suit, the novice in an elegant black and white parka and pant ensemble or the hip snowboarder who works hard to look like he put no time at all into selecting his outfit ─ if they don’t have sweet voices, show kindness and have skill scratching her ears, they’ll never make a good impression on Bessie no matter how much they spend at the ski shop.

Imagine you were blind and the only way you were able to understand and get to know people was by the way they spoke with you, the way they shared time, and the kindness they offered with nothing expected in return. With masks, goggles and helmets we all have the potential to be beautiful. Bessie has taught me how to recognize a smile when it can’t be seen. It doesn’t take much to measure up to Bessie’s standards. Why do we make it so complicated?