Taking risks to help the world a little
I’ve always been a risk-taker, risking my own things, not other people’s. This includes taking huge risks such as starting my own infertility practice and making some high-risk high-yield financial investments, which have come to pay off very handsomely. However, I am prone to taking many near-trivial risks in life also, such as waiting for the gas tank indicator to get to the lowest possible point, showing completely empty, before filling up the tank. I’ve only fully run out one time in the past 15 years. That time, it was with a rental car for which I was not that familiar with the peculiarities of the gas gauge. Fortunately, it happened within very short walking distance of the nearest gas station, so it wasn’t all that painful a lesson. My parents are just the opposite in this regard, as they tend to panic and refill the tank if it gets below 1/4 full.
This morning, being a Saturday (yes, RE’s work on weekends), I left just enough to time to get gas and then get to work at the time when the first patients were scheduled. The tank had been at the completely empty mark (which I define not at as the point where you first get a warning flash, but as the point where the indicator could not possibly get any lower) since I got home late last night from going out with friends. It had been so cold and it had been late, and I calculated that I could leave home this morning with enough time to spare to refill the tank.
While pumping the gas this cold morning, I heard the familiar noise of a car’s wheezing and grinding as it attempted unsuccessfully to start, a noise I heard many times when I lived in the snowy Midwest. Apparently, someone had pulled up to the pump before me, gotten his gas and was now having trouble restarting the car. A tall old man about my grandfather’s age stepped out and in a raspy voice sounding like Homer Simpson’s dad, asked if I had jumper cables. I replied yes. You see, my car is well-prepared with a first-aid kit, jumper cables, two bottles of drinking water, a spare blanket, a hand-crank flashlight that doesn’t require batteries and a book in case I get stranded somewhere and need something to occupy my time while waiting for help to arrive. Although I am not afraid to take risks, I also try not to take any unnecessary risks. Waiting for the gas tank to get down low before refilling has a benefit in that it minimizes the hours of my life that I have to waste pumping gas, so I don’t see that as a completely UNNECESSARY risk.
I asked back to the old man "Can’t the gas station attendant help you?"
He grumbled back "You would THINK. But they don’t even have cables. I asked already."
That didn’t surprise me. Sitting in his warm office, was the bored Middle Eastern gas station attendant, watching his tiny black and white TV while surrounded by neatly arranged displays of chewing gum, lip balm, maps and lottery tickets scratchers, oblivious to the world except to interact with the occasional customer asking to get $40 on pump #3.
I processed the situation. I was probably going to be a few minutes late for work as it was. If I stayed and did the decent thing to help this poor old man, I might be an additional 10 minutes late if the best case scenario played out of a quick easy successful jump start. However, having jumped-started many batteries already throughout my driving career, I know that it could sometimes take an unexpected turn and require a lot longer than expected. It would not be fair to my patients to make them wait. I finished pumping gas, popped open my trunk with the remote and got out my coiled and wrapped set of cables. I handed them to the man along with my card, telling him he could wait for the next motorist or the attendant to help him and that I trusted him to drop them off at my office (2 minutes away) after he was done with them.
However, things were not to be so easy. After talking to him more, and observing his less-than-crystal-clear cognitive status and his apparent inability to read the fine print on my business card, I had a sinking feeling that after I lent these cables to him, chances were high I would never see them again. Still, the risk-taking decision-maker part of my brain had already clicked and I had already committed that I would gamble the loss of my cables if it meant a reasonable chance of making this other person’s day go easier. Suddenly, fate came to the rescue. A man who had apparently been nearby and who had overheard our conversation, walked up to us, looked at my business card and while walking into the office to pay the attendant turned back and said to us "I don’t have cables, but I can use yours to help him and then I’ll drop them back to you". Problem solved. The safe return of my cables was no longer at the whims of the elderly man’s mental faculties, but rested solely on the honesty of the second man.
I got to my office and started seeing patients. Each time, I came out of the room and back to my desk, I asked my staff if someone had dropped off the cables and each time, I became a little bit more disappointed with humanity when I got the answer. Almost an hour had passed and I got wrapped up in a lengthy graduation ultrasound for one of our patients. This is the final ultrasound done at about 12 weeks pregnancy where we burn a movie of the baby dancing around onto a DVD to give to the patient as a small good-bye present before they leave us and go back to the OB who referred them originally. Caught up in the happy couple’s wave of excitement as I showed them all the baby’s parts, I had already forgotten about the lost jumper cables as I hugged the couple goodbye.
As I went back to my desk, something caught my eye. There on the corner were my jumper cables, coiled even more neatly than they had been originally, and tucked securely back in the vinyl bag. The fact that it had taken an hour to make it back to me suggested that the nice man had spent a lot of time to help the old man. Also, next to the cables was a business card belonging to my tag-team partner good Samaritan. I kept his card for future reference. So, if you live in southern California and are ever in need of an honest contractor to remodel your kitchen, you might want to check out Abby Vasquez Construction 714-519-1400. I know nothing of his skills, but you can surprise him and tell him that you know all about his good deed helping an old man jump start his car that cold Saturday morning.
