The get-well card that strangers signed

One evening several years ago, a business colleague and I met at Reagan National Airport for a trip to Kansas City. A storm delayed our flight, so we found seats at the bar and waited.

Earlier that day, one of my team members had suffered a heart attack. On the way to the airport, I had picked up a get-well card. While we were sitting there, I took it out, signed it, and handed it to my colleague.

The woman next to him asked what he was signing. He explained what had happened.

“Would you mind if I signed it too?” she asked. “My dad’s been going through heart issues.”

Of course.

Then another person wanted to sign. And another. Most had a story of their own. A parent, a spouse, a friend. Someone they cared about who had been through something similar.

By the time the delay became a cancellation, more than 30 people had signed the card. People who had never met our colleague and probably never would.

When we gave him the card, he was understandably confused. There were our names, followed by a long list of people he didn’t know. We explained where all those signatures had come from. You could see what it meant to him.

I had bought a card for someone on my team. An airport bar full of strangers had turned it into something I couldn’t have planned.

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Nobody asked them to participate. Nobody gave a speech. They heard about another person’s trouble, recognized something from their own lives, and wanted to help.

I think about that when I hear people described as disengaged or indifferent. Sometimes they are. But sometimes we haven’t given them much to connect with beyond a task, a deadline, or another update.

Most people want to help. Sometimes they just need a way to do it.

That evening, all it took was a card and a conversation. People found their own reason to care.

I would still have preferred an on-time flight. But the card is what I remember.

And the most important part: our colleague recovered and is still working today.