Author: Patrick Rhone

I was at a local Five Guys having a cheeseburger. It was mid afternoon; therefore, off peak. I was alone at a four top. Two young women were having a pleasant conversation at the table just in front of me. We were the only ones there when I arrived.

About two bites into my burger, a rowdy group of teens came in — about ten of them. They got their food and proceeded to crowd around the table next to the women. They were generally creating a ruckus. Loud, boisterous, throwing french fries at each other, and generally being teens. They chowed down their food and exited rather quickly, certainly before either the women or I were finished. In their wake, they left a table full of half eaten food and garbage. It was like a tornado blew though and touched down just in that particular spot.

The women, clearly annoyed, finished their lunch. They got up to clear their table and dispose of their garbage at the can near the door. Then, without missing a beat, they causually turned their attention to the mess the teens had made and cleaned that up too. They left just as casually after,

They didn’t have to do that. It wasn’t their responsibility. Though it was a pain in the ass, the employees would have taken care of it. The women could have just minded their own mess.

But they didn’t. They saw a thing that needed doing and they did it. They did it because it was the nice thing to do. They stepped up to the responsibility caused by their less responsible neighbors. They didn’t ask for or seek thanks or recognition. They silently dealt with the problem and moved on with their day.

Not-my-jobism is a disease. These women, and the actions and compassion they showed that day, are the cure.