I was in my local supermarket a few days ago, minding my own business, buying the things that I had forgotten to put on the weekly home delivery, when I was approached by a very pretty young woman. Sadly, this isn’t something that happens all that frequently these days – did it ever? – but you take what you can get, don’t you? It soon became clear that it was not my swarthy mature good looks that had attracted her to me. It was because in darker times for her, she had attended our food bank and we had been able to help her with an emergency food parcel. She wanted to thank me.
People who volunteer, as I do, are not in the business of seeking thanks nor rewards for what we do. If someone was to ask me why I volunteer, I might struggle to give a coherent answer. I like to help people, I want to give back a bit to society and I really, really like what I do. And I feel passionately that in the civilised society we are supposed to be living in, how come there are many millions of people who don’t have any food to eat? So, there’s a little controlled anger involved, too.
A lot of people do thank us, particularly when they are leaving the food bank with an emergency parcel. When I respond with a “you’re welcome”, I am thinking of the people who made the food parcel possible and that’s the people who donated items at our collection points or even called by to donate in person. Obviously, I don’t know who donated what and where, but I would like them – you? – to know you made a difference to someone’s life, which is to say you ensured a total stranger had some food and essential toiletries to see them navigate through an emergency. I’m just the bloke they see when they come in, who finds out which items they need to help avert the crisis and, just as importantly, and for the short while they are with us, they are our friends.
The young lady in the supermarket gave me a hug, which was very sweet. I don’t do praise nor thanks very well and explained, as per above, that I was just the front of house kinda guy and that there were a huge number of cogs in the machine that ensured there was stuff to give out. I didn’t decide anything. None of the people behind the scenes hear the praise we get. So, I always make a point of telling the that what they are doing is life-changing and quite possibly in some circumstances life-saving.
I walked off feeling ten feet tall because it’s the feel good factor but I do know that tomorrow I’ll be normal size again, doing my little bit to make someone’s life a bit better. What I do is sticking plaster, that’s all. I see people who have reached the end of the line and I never forget that. That I got a hug for doing it was rather lovely. Perhaps I should hug all my colleagues because they did as much, if not more than I did? And when I ask someone whether they’d like a can of baked beans, I know that it could be you, dear reader, who donated them. Thank you.
