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.

“If you’re going through hell, keep going." - Winston Churchill.

We knew this was coming eventually, like looking out across the ocean on a sunny, blue-sky beach day and seeing storm clouds building on the horizon. It’s not a question of if but when the unsettled weather will arrive. In this case the pending low-pressure system is Bessie’s gradual hearing loss. For a while we thought she was just ignoring us, the way highly intelligent people ignore senseless, pointless conversation. She is the genius, after all, and we are mere, flawed mortals. Ashley and I are used to Bessie doing her own thing. She’s been like that most of her life, but this is different. There is a new look on her face now, a curious “where are you guys” look that beckons us to her side for a touch so she knows we’re there.

Bessie’s nose and ears are at full attention as she strains to perceive all of life’s scented and vibrating signals, like an ancient mariner navigating on a dark, foggy night, inhaling deeply to catch a fragrance that will lead to a safe harbor. We still go on daily hikes with Bess and she has no fear or hesitation in the midst of her transition to a quieter world. She’ll walk with complete confidence in the wrong direction until certain commands break through her sound barrier and she finds us. Once back on the trail Bessie jumps out in front and becomes our point, remembering the way like the leader she has always been. Imagine remaining upbeat and optimistic in a dark, pitch-black world as someone gradually turns the volume down?

Bessie has a laser sense of smell, so the joy of finding dropped morsels remains an adrenalin pumping motivator for our aging hero. In her sightless, increasingly silent world she still prowls the corners of our kitchen with her nose to the ground, ears and eyes at full attention by habit. And somehow, she expertly negotiates her way to the cozy L.L. Bean bed that has welcomed her since she joined our family back in 2009. We watch her with admiration. There is no remorse or regret, just a courageous acceptance that this is how things are progressing. Goodness, what a brave, inspiring old lady she is compared to us endlessly complaining humans.

Bessie has always coveted attention, especially the tactile kind when people scratch or touch her. Now more than ever she leans into physical contact, like a middle linebacker who lives for the collisions his game guarantees. Linebackers pull back when the referee blows the whistle, but not Bessie, she picks up her pace when my high-pitched whistle breaks through. She hears it in her soul and tracks it like a love call. Bessie knows there is affection and perhaps a treat where it came from, so she relentlessly pursues the source.

Because her world has become quieter, Bessie now sleeps later in the morning. But when she senses the house waking up she is on her toes, joyously wagging her tail and making garbled noises to let us know she is fired up for another full day of adventure and exploration. This dear dog is instinctively brave and eager; she doesn’t hesitate. Where does that spirit come from? How can she be so inspirational to her supposedly smarter owners? It started when a seven-week-old puppy left her pen, slowly inched her way into the sunlight and parked herself softly on Ashley’s feet twelve-and-a-half years ago. That was one of the luckiest days of our lives, and now she is paying us back as if we invested in bitcoin the first day it was available.

What’s next for Bessie? She remains sleek and fit despite several fatty tumors we’ve nicknamed love bumps. On walks she shows no signs of wearing out and is still drawn to water like an amphibian, joyously retrieving tossed balls and sticks. Her facial expression when she is awake is wide-eyed and excited for what’s next. Just the other night, when taking Bessie out for her end of day ritual, she pranced confidently into the woods, barking at the top of her lungs to be sure the deer, bobcat, or bear she smelled knew this was her territory and she was ready to defend it. When I tracked her down in my slippers and pajamas and led her back to the house, Bessie’s heart was dancing with joy. After a couple of cookies and an intimate snuggle she was at peace again, confident in her role as our noble defender.

Bessie’s optimism is as relentless as the seasons. Our girl has learned to sift through life’s hardships and find the shiny nuggets that are always there for the tireless, optimistic prospector. Whatever comes next, she’ll deal with it and keep going.

Be Like BESSIE!

What’s Next?

“If you’re going through hell, keep going." - Winston Churchill.

Bessie’s optimism is as relentless as the seasons. Our girl has learned to sift through life’s hardships and find the shiny nuggets that are always there for the tireless, optimistic prospector. Whatever comes next, she’ll deal with it and keep going.

Be Like Bessie.