COLUMN: Thank You For Your Service

Have you ever woken up on the wrong side of life?

That was me the other morning. Instead of greeting the break of dawn with a spring in my step and a song in my soul, I instead woke with a scowl on my face and more than a few choice words for my alarm clock.

I'd like to offer an explanation for the rain on my parade, but it was just one of those mornings. I thought momentarily about calling in sick, but knowing MY luck, next week I'd come down with ACTUAL flu and need that sick time. Besides, I'm too annoyingly honest. My guilty conscience would kick in and I'd probably spend my entire Ferris Bueller adventure checking work e-mails from home and worrying about co-workers having to cover my duties. I'm so lame.

By sheer willpower and a thunderous need for caffeine, I forced myself into action and went about my morning rituals. As I began the flooded, bridge-traffic-addled drive to the office, I took stock of the situation and tried to find the good mood that I had clearly misplaced. That's when I had my brainstorm.

What's the one thing I could do to brighten my morning and reaffirm my love of life? A selfless act.

I needed to do something -- anything -- to make someone's day better. It made perfect sense, right? Give a little bit of yourself to bring a smile to someone else's face, and you're destined to fill with warm fuzzies and self-confidence. The world might be going to heck in a handbag, but a little act of kindness might just slow the descent a bit. Pay it forward, as they say.

They, of course, are mostly full of it. The ugly truth is that most selfless acts don't really exist. My motivation was entirely off kilter. I wanted to commit a selfless act to improve my SELF, and that's the exact opposite of "selfless." I was definitely looking to make someone's day better -- and that someone was ME. I wasn't motivated by helping others. I was motivated by the warm fuzzies I'd feel when I did it. Did I just disprove the righteousness of charity on my morning commute?

These are NOT the sorts of philosophical quandries one should wrestle with prior to one's first cup of coffee, so I made a mad dash into my favorite gas station for a cup of black gold. That's when I saw him -- the unmistakable fatigues of an active military serviceman. Bingo. I'd seen it done many times before, and now it was MY chance. Today, I would pay for his coffee, thank him for his service, and be graced with good karma and warm fuzzies aplenty.

I'm in awe of our active and veteran military. They are brave and valorous, whereas I am cowardly and chicken. They run towards danger, whereas I have been known to run from a honeybee. I am the proud son of two veterans, and I was raised to appreciate the sacrifice that every man and woman in uniform makes. They are our nation's heroes, and I am always thankful of their service. Today, I would make sure to let one of them know.

I patiently stood behind the serviceman in the checkout line. As he approached the counter, I could already the warm fuzzies welling. I took a deep breath, cleared my throat... and that's when a voice from behind me rang out:

"I've got his coffee! Thank you for your service!"

Wait, what? And THAT is how, on a dime, I went from paying the due respect (and coffee) of one of our nation's heroes to instead wanting to choke some random stranger for the crime of being nice faster than me. I may have looked like a patient customer in line, but inside, I was SEETHING. How DARE someone selflessly steal MY selfless act? I had DIBS, buddy. As if things weren't awkward enough, that's when the soldier, not knowing who had just bought his coffee, immediately turned around and tried to shake MY hand in gratitude, leaving me to sheepishly mutter, "While I'm very thankful for your service as well, sir, it wasn't me."

Suffice to say, no mood-changing fuzzies occurred that day. Thankfully, my co-workers allowed me a fairly wide berth to grumble my way through the rest of the day, before I got home and went to bed wishing for a do-over.

Little did I know, I'd have that chance the very next morning. I found myself at the same gas station, in the same checkout line, but with a different soldier in front of me. Better late than never, I thought. Once again, I took a deep breath, cleared my throat, and made it to "Ehhh" before I noticed he didn't have a coffee in his hand.

"Yes, I need seventy dollars worth of scratch-offs," the soldier said as I quickly ehhh-ed my way back to silence. I'm all for being selfless, but I guess not THAT selfless -- although I did thank him for his service and I hope his scratch-off party yielded bountiful results.

Being selfless feels good, but that's not why you should do it. You shouldn't need an excuse to thank a soldier or a vet. And if one isn't handy, donate to a cause or figure out any way to better someone else's bad day. They might just return the favor someday. As for me? I eventually fixed my bad mood with a small donation to my alma mater, who certainly doesn't need my help. But I earmarked mine towards my college's underfunded and underappreciated campus radio station, where even tiny donations go a mile. Once upon a Shane, that little studio was the epicenter of every good mood in my life. Helping it stay alive for others to enjoy gives me all the warm fuzzies I need.