I have a feeling there are two types of people in this world: those who return the shopping trolley, and those who leave it in a carpark like it has been abandoned after a high-speed chase. Whether you return your shopping trolley to somewhere near where you got it from or not might be one of the great character tests.
The waiter rule and character tests
In your mind you are thinking "they have people to collect these and besides, multinationals are making a fortune anyway" but possibly it is a way to see how community-minded you are. A bit like when you have just started seeing a new special friend and you watch to see how they treat the waiter or waitress at a restaurant or cafe. It is called the "waiter rule", and I believe the great Muhammad Ali said it best: "I don't trust anyone who is nice to me but rude to the waiter. Because they would treat me the same way if I were in that position."
Going beyond the call of duty
But lately, I have noticed a rarer breed. A higher species, if you will. People who do not just do the right thing — they do the right thing when it is absolutely, undeniably not their problem. Recently I became one of them, albeit briefly. And, I must say, reluctantly.
I was outside a friend's restaurant when I spotted it. Not just a dog poo, this was a crime scene. A proper, in the doorway, no-escape situation. The kind that ruins lunches, friendships, and good shoes. Now, this was not my pooch but being a dog lover I knew the drill. It was a choice between pointing out what had happened or just pulling out a doggy-do bag (I know, fancy having them on you at all times). And for all I knew this could have been a Cavoodle with a grudge. And there he was proudly admiring his work. So I did what any rational adult would not do. I scooped it up.
No applause. No parade. Just a quiet chuckle from the old bloke sitting nearby. "Where are you gonna put that now Barra?" Good question wise old man. But still it was just me, a plastic bag, and a quiet sense that I had crossed into a new phase of life where this now somehow feels, well, necessary.
Now I know I might sound like a right goody-two-shoes but I swear this was not a big deal. The big deal is when you are on your own somewhere and you do something community-spirited. As my man of the Narnia books C. S. Lewis said: "Integrity is doing the right thing, even when no one is watching."
Rubbish around the bin and other mysteries
And once you have done that, something changes. You start noticing things. Like rubbish around a bin. Not in the bin. Around it. Which raises a fascinating question: how does someone walk all the way to a bin, finds it is full and thinks "close enough". I saw a bloke who actually was picking up the stray coffee cups, rogue napkins and various bits of windblown regret, putting them into the bin, and then, and this is where it gets truly elite, pushing it all down so the crows could not treat it like an all-you-can-eat buffet. That is right. He even defied the wildlife. The natural order of things.
The parking ticket handover
Then there is one of my favourites: the parking ticket handover. You know the move. You are leaving. There is still 30 minutes left on the ticket. You spot someone circling like a shark. And instead of just driving off you wave them down and hand over the golden slip. It is like Willy Wonka, without the chocolate. These are the little unspoken gestures that make you realise society has not completely fallen apart. In fact they can renew your faith in humanity. Let us face it, a lot of shitty things have been going on in the world this year.
You see it at places like Pelican Point or Rosalie Park too. Dog walkers who quietly pick up not just their dog's mess, but someone else's laziness. People who grab that stray bottle or chips packet and bin it, even though it had nothing to do with them. No social media post. No "look at me" moment. Just doing it.
Next-level legends
And then there, in my book, are the next-level legends. The people who help when something goes wrong. They help you push your stalled car off the road or help find your lost dog. Recently I lost my car keys. Somewhere on my 5km walk between the car, the cafe, the IGA and the park. Was not that a fun morning, retracing my steps (another 5km) while looking down like crew members on a Tom Cruise movie avoiding eye contact. However within hours, a nice fella I know had made signs about my lost car keys. And had even offered a reward. What an incredible gesture. That is not just helpful, that is above and beyond, bordering on superhero behaviour without the cape.
Remarkably, someone found the keys and posted a photo on the Subiaco Community Facebook page, saying they had left them on a pole near a crosswalk. Perfect. Except when I got there, they were gone. Vanished. Which leads me to only one logical conclusion: they must have spotted the West Coast Eagles key ring.
A quiet army of decency
But even with that slightly sad ending, it reminded me of something important. For all the talk about how people are selfish, distracted, glued to their phone, there is still a quiet army out there doing small, decent things. Cleaning up messes that are not theirs. Helping strangers. Leaving things better than they found them without any fanfare. Maybe that is why we live in Perth, in Western Australia for that matter. Because as it turns out, doing the right thing is a bit like going to the gym. It is annoying, maybe slightly uncomfortable. But afterwards, you feel like you have made some small contribution to a better world. Even if the crows and the bin chickens are still judging you.
