I feel that the world has lost its kindness at least since the pandemic. I get honked at two seconds after the green light turns on if I don’t drive off immediately. When I keep a distance from the vehicle in front of me that allows me to brake in time in any situation, it happens with clockwork regularity that another vehicle slides into the gap (which is probably perceived as unreasonably large). A “thank you” or “please,” let alone an apology, are as rare in public spaces as fertile soil on this planet. Hearing something kind is so rare that you remember it forever. As if the global situation weren’t already difficult enough, we make life harder for each other. People quickly say that tolerance has dropped below freezing point, and instead of talking to each other with a sincere will to solve the problems, the police are called. One example: If the neighbor makes noise five minutes past 10 p.m. Lawyers get involved, and a lot of money is spent (which isn’t a big deal, since legal insurance pays), where one should actually just discuss things and look for the smallest common denominator.

This increasingly bothers me. Changing something requires the involvement of many (if not all) in a permanent way. I’ve started with myself. Now, most of my emails are adjusted by artificial intelligence, making them better and me a better person. The tone becomes softer, the language more elaborate and kinder. The messages are wrapped in cotton. This only takes a few seconds, and everyone who knows me long enough recognizes it immediately. That’s even intentional. I’m not trying to present myself falsely. However, the effect is twofold. On the one hand, my emails lose authenticity. They’re not really me anymore. But on the other hand – and this is the truth – my emails were not always easy to digest. I’m a direct person, and I know that this isn’t for everyone. I try to hold myself back, which I probably don’t always manage. From now on, I hope my emails won’t hurt anyone anymore. That’s something.

I’ve consciously started looking for the positive in every person, the outstanding, the noticeable. Sometimes, it’s hard work to find it immediately, but everyone has something. And I name the excellent, the outstanding, aloud. Ultimately, it’s the truth. This way, everyone could get their daily dose of kindness without pretending. It’s, as so often, just a matter of will.

On Sunday morning, shortly after 8 a.m., I was at the bakery to buy bread. Next to me stood the little cashier, who has worked there for years and is always exceptionally kind. She even remembers my name and greets me by it. I really like her. On her tray was a cup – probably coffee –, a glass of water, and a paper bag where it was hard to say exactly what was inside. The bag wasn’t big, but it wasn’t small either. I thought this was the moment to give back her years of kindness. I told the cashier behind the counter that I would also pay for her breakfast. I turned to her and explained how nice I think she is and that I would like to pay for her breakfast today. She was embarrassed but said it was kind, but that she would pay for it herself. However, she didn’t say it in a tone that brooked no disagreement. I insisted, and she hesitated further. After several back-and-forth exchanges, she finally agreed. But how surprised was I when I heard the price I had to pay: 1.20 Swiss Francs. I couldn’t believe it. Maybe they gave me employee prices, and the staff didn’t have to pay for coffee. I asked if they had made a mistake with the price and if everything was okay, but I was assured that everything was correct. I was expecting more, around 10 francs or more.

I hope I managed to bring some joy with just 1.20 francs and give back a bit of kindness.