Joy is in the giving, not what happens to the gift

The other day I was upgraded to first class on a flight from Atlanta to Newark. This rarely happens, so I was pretty happy about it. As I waited to board, they announced that active military personnel and people who need extra assistance were welcome to board first, as they always do. One elderly woman was wheeled up, wobbled to her feet, and walked down the ramp first. Then a young guy, who looked to be about 20, showed his military ID and walked down the ramp a few minutes behind her. They then opened it up to first class, and I was one of the first to go through. I was walking down the boarding ramp, I noticed that the young man had put his stuff down to help the old woman into her seat. He came back and got his stuff, then proceeded to his middle seat toward the back of the plane. I followed him to his seat, told him I was grateful for his service and impressed by his compassion for the elderly woman, and offered (told) him to switch seats with me. After a little protesting, he did.

I settled into my crappy, middle seat but felt good about giving him an experience he may never get again in his life, and started to read my book as the rest of the plane boarded. Toward the end of the boarding processes, I saw the guy who I had switched seats with walk past me and take a new seat several rows behind me. I looked up into first class and saw another young guy sitting in that seat I had given up. I was a little pissed. I hadn’t given up my seat to this guy. I had given up to the kid who had impressed me. This other guy probably wasn’t even active military, or else he would have boarded early. I also didn’t see him helping anyone in the boarding area to deserve the little extra comfort and pampering of first class travel. So, I sat and stewed about it for several minutes (with my knees pressed firmly against the cramped seat in front of me, and two people on either side of me using “my” armrests).

I was about to get up and ask the kid what had happened, when I realized, why did I care? My guy must have known the other guy and had his reasons for giving up the seat, just as I did. While I didn’t know whether this other guy really deserved my seat and whether I would have given it to him if I knew his story, what I did know is that I gifted it to someone else for what I felt was a good reason. What happened to the gift after I gave it, was no longer any of my concern.

So, the lesson is this: Don’t get jaded into not helping people who need it, just because you are not sure what they will actually do with your help. If a gift is given out of genuine appreciation and love, don't worry about whether they react the way you think they should, or what happens to the gift. If they really appreciate it and want to pass that same feeling along using your gift, be glad you gave them the opportunity to do it. Sometimes re-gifting isn't lazy, it's awesome. Find joy in giving, and then move on.

Related lesson on panhandling: Be very wary of giving cash to panhandlers; try to give them something they want to use the cash for instead. Panhandlers used to ask for money “for food”, and I was generally willing to go get food with/for them (“Can I buy you a burger instead?”). I didn’t like to give them money because who knew if it would be used on booze or drugs or whatever. If I gave them food, and they took it and gave it away to someone who was hungrier (see original lesson above), great. Anyway, over the past year I’ve noticed very few people are asking for money “for food” anymore. Now it is money “for a bus ticket to get home” or something like that like. Panhandlers are starting to ask for money for things you can’t actually give them instead; it’s cash or nothing. It’s clever, but it’s also too bad, because it makes good people think twice about giving to the people who really do need it (they are hard to tell apart). I’m still always good for a sandwich.