For this month’s LinkedIn newsletter, I’m sharing a story about a time when empathy helped turn a difficult situation into a really wonderful experience. This is excerpted from my book, The Empathetic Workplace, which I hope you’ll check out if you haven’t already. In addition, if you’d like to explore more about the power of empathy, I’m co-hosting an all-day workshop called Empathy in Action on May 5th in Washington, DC. I’d love to see you there!
Once I sat on a plane next to an empty seat. We were getting close to the time for takeoff, and I thought maybe I was going to get to stretch out a little. Instead, just before the doors closed, a woman hustled down the aisle. She was carrying too many bags and had trouble managing them. She seemed flustered. She was also grumbling, the whole way down the aisle, about the service on these airlines, how narrow the aisles were, how late she was, and how this was all ridiculous.
Of course, she was heading for me. I hopped up and let her get herself situated. She continued grumbling as she organized her things, settled into her seat, and latched her seatbelt.
I remained silent. When she finally looked over at me, I smiled. “Flying can be a pain,” I commiserated.
“Ugh, you have no idea,” she began. She launched into the early wake-up, the flight delay, the nearly missed connection, the bag that probably hadn’t made it. I didn’t say anything, just listened. Sometimes I smiled sympathetically.
Eventually, she began to run out of steam. She looked away, lips pursed. “I hate flying. It always scares me. My husband used to calm me down.”
She paused. I sat with her in silence.
“He died a month ago,” she said finally.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “What was he like?”
She told me about him. He sounded like a really good man. I was sorry that he had died. As she talked about him, her entire demeanor changed. She seemed younger, lighter, calmer, and happier.
It wasn’t a long flight, and the time passed quickly as we chatted. The talk about her husband transitioned into talk about our jobs. We found out we had some things in common in our work lives, and we discussed those. We exchanged cards. She was happy to learn that I lived in Washington, DC. She loved DC, especially the museums, and she urged me to see her favorite sculpture at the National Gallery of Art.
Back in Washington months later, as I sorted through the papers on my desk, I came across a letter. It was from her. She’d sent a kind note thanking me for our conversation. She mentioned again the sculpture she loved. “It’s a woman with a veil,” she said. “Don’t forget to go see it.”
A few weeks later, I followed her advice. I wandered through the maze of rooms at the National Gallery of Art until I found the sculpture. Called The Veiled Nun, the marble bust is of a beautiful woman with a veil, thin as gossamer silk, resting lightly over her face. I thought of my seatmate and the way she’d transformed over the course of our conversation. Stress melted from her face as she recounted stories of her beloved husband. Her grief, it seems, was a thin layer obscuring the vibrant and fascinating woman beneath. I was glad that through our conversation I was able to see past it.
