Good intentions aren’t enough

“The road to hell is paved with good intentions,” my boss yelled at me over the phone. I don’t remember what I did to cause her wrath that day years ago. What I do recall is that my journey to understanding the pitfalls of mere intentions began at this point.
It would be simple for me to use this space to discuss the impact managers have on staff. Dr. Linda Duxbury, Carleton University professor and Canadian guru on organizational health, would call that woman a “jerk manager.” However, it is following through on good intentions that I want to talk about.

There are times when I get caught up in the difference between doing what I think is the right thing and doing nothing, because it seems to be what society deems correct behaviour or proper manners. This situation is not hard to imagine when you consider going out to lunch with someone you don’t know well, like a client, and he has a noodle stuck in his beard or she has a piece of parsley caught between her teeth. Do you tell the person or do you remain silent?

I recall numerous times when I have been washing my hands in a public bathroom and noticed black under my eyes because my mascara had run. I get peeved—especially if a close friend or family member is with me and hasn’t let me know. I would prefer not to walk around with racoon eyes.

Once, I had just come out of a meeting and was chatting on the street with a colleague. A stranger approached me and was kind enough to point out that I had a massive stain on my skirt. What a nice person, I thought. I don’t know what I sat on but this stain was huge. Her early notice gave me the opportunity to tie my jacket around my waist to avoid discomfort–mine and any witnesses who may have wished to say something, but wouldn’t have given in to the urge.

Have you ever been in that situation? You witness an event and immediately you want to intervene because your beliefs and values tell you that you should. But you don’t. Something stops you. The wall of societal norms and etiquette, which you never willingly subscribed to, blocks you from acting. Then you are haunted by the event and your inaction for quite some time.

You witness an event and immediately you want to intervene because your beliefs and values tell you that you should. But you don’t. Something stops you. The wall of societal norms and etiquette, which you never willingly subscribed to, blocks you from acting.

What still puzzles me is clothing malfunctions–specifically the open pant zipper of strangers.

With folks I know, saying, “you’re flying low,” or “zip up,” or “check out your zipper” is as simple as asking if they want a coffee. But what do you do with strangers who are also worthy of the consideration?

Recently, I was at a conference speaking to a new business colleague. Out of the side of my eye I noticed a man getting a coffee and his zipper was down. The suggestion to my colleague that he notify the stranger was met with, “But I don’t know him… guys don’t do that kind of stuff.” When he noticed my surprised response, he countered with, “Why were you looking at his crotch, anyway?”

(In my mind, my colleague is still in the hospital nursing the wounds I mentally inflicted upon his body. You don’t have to be crotch-watching to notice an undone-zipper, any more than you’re chest-gazing if you see a missed blouse button.)
Think about what you would prefer in this situation. If you do not speak up upon realizing someone’s clothing malfunction, this person may be embarrassed. The best bet is to quietly advise him or her to zip up. This also applies to a woman’s blouse that is unbuttoned in front, food or lipstick on teeth and other potentially embarrassing situations.

Showing consideration to strangers bonds us by our humanness. What we need to remember is the second—often forgotten—part of the old proverb. The road to hell might be paved with good intentions, but the road to heaven is paved with good deeds. If we follow-through in this way, the world becomes a smaller place. Not so hostile. Not so cold. Especially once you zip up.

This article was originally published in Your Workplace magazine issue 12-3