Longboat Key, Florida, where I hang out with my family every winter, is about an 1 1/2 hours from the Tampa airport. On the drive, we pass through 2 tollbooths. Growing up in suburban Chicago, these types of long, tollbooth-speckled drives were normal. I decided as a child that working in a tollbooth would be the worst imaginable job: performing a repetitive, mindless task while inhaling exhaust fumes.
My childhood assumptions have been replaced by an adult observation: tollbooth operators seem inordinately happy—not just in contrast to my preconceptions, but happy in a standalone sort of way. They are almost universally cheery, smiling and courteous. This is not just a Florida phenomenon. The Holland and Lincoln Tunnels, the GWB, Midtown Tunnel and other Tristate toll plazas are filled with damn happy folks. Sure, there’s a surly cop manning the booth every now and again, but for the most part they are courteous, pleasant and cheerful.
I walk 3/4 of a mile every morning to work through my fancy Brooklyn neighborhood. I typically do it around 8:15AM, right as children are going to school. My walk down Clinton Street takes me past a couple crossing guards. Like the toll operators, these women (and they’re all women) seem preternaturally happy. They know most of the names of both parent and child. They seem untroubled by the weather, which is pretty damn cold right now.
On the walk I pass many well-dressed people on their way to work. Perhaps they betray a different affect at work, but going there they look pretty miserable. Few smile. Most have sad or anxious eyes. If I smile or look at them, they don’t seem to know what to do and look away rather than smiling back. Most of them wear headphones and/or are tapping away on their phones, sending texts or emails; their fixation punctuated by obligatory glances at the sidewalk.
I just finished reading an article by David Brooks in the New Yorker called “Social Animal.” The subheading is, “How the new sciences of human nature can help make sense of life.” The article uses an imaginary case study of a couple’s courtship and all of the neurological mechanisms that inform its development. I can’t do justice to Brooks’s article, nor his argument (you should definitely read it), but I’ll tell you what I got from it. It’s the same thing I get from seeing the smiling tollbooth operators and ebullient crossing-guards, people whose job is to interact with other people: humans want and need to connect with one another. Continue reading “Tollbooth Operators, Crossing Guards and Martin Luther King, Jr.”