LXXXVIII. The Price of Treating People Like They Don’t Matter
The butterfly effect.
Previously, The Past Will Destroy You if You Don't Let Go
“Everyone I meet is in some way my superior. In that I learn from him.” ―Ralph Waldo Emerson
Some days, it hits me how much we rely on people we overlook. The barista who remembers your name and usual order, which influences your day’s mood. The watchman who stayed up all night to keep you safe while you slept. The stranger who posted a meme that made you laugh on a hard day. Even the guy who cut you off in traffic—they taught you patience, which extends to your son when he does something foolish, or they gave you something to rant about and revealed how much resentment you’ve suppressed toward your parents. Whether we know it or not, we’re all helping each other get through this life thing.
It’s good to be generous with our time, love, energy, attention and resources. Not for credit. Not to seem kind or charming. But the same way we love our partner, our child, our dog—just because it feels right.
We can joke with the waitress, ask about her kid, and listen when she vents about how much she hates her job. We can give her a small mother’s day gift when she least expects it. We can tip the taxi guy extra because he played the music we liked, or drove like he cared if we got home. We can share the best ideas, resources and opportunities we've come across more freely to the perceptive and receptive. We can offer help before being asked, and follow up without being told.
For eventually, we learn that living for ourselves — the thrill of more money, more accolades, more status or new stuff, fades. What lasts is the quality and excellence we bring to our work, our relationships, and the way we carry ourselves. Life feels and is better when it’s not only about us. It’s what helped me process grief.
But we’ve built a world where some roles get applause, and others get ignored. A CEO posts online and gets thousands of likes for “grinding.” But the person who cleaned their office the night before, or fixed their plumbing, or cooked for them—goes unthanked. I’m not discrediting the CEO’s hard work and success, but that act of treating people as if they don’t matter and our relationships as transactional, is shortsighted. The work that keeps life running is mostly invisible but that doesn’t mean it’s not important.
The truth is: nobody does anything alone. Every “self-made” story rests on dozens of others showing up. You may have the determination. But someone made the chair you work on, kept the lights on. Someone picked your trash, did your laundry. Someone changed your IV drip. Someone taught you how to read. We all depend on each other far more than we admit. The fantasy of being independent is just that—a fantasy.
If the electrician doesn’t show up, we sit in the dark and people suffer—no surgeries, no imaging machines, no heat in the cold. If the driver is careless or slow, people miss flights, kids miss school, deals fall through. If the janitor stops cleaning, the hospital turns inhospitable. If the barista calls in sick and there’s no replacement, the overworked nurse starts her shift exhausted, the tired parent snaps at their kid, the commuter drags through their day. If artists stop making music and writers stop creating, we lose one of the few things that softens grief, stirs joy, and reminds us what we're alive for. And if the bees go, we don’t just lose honey—we risk famine. One broken link affects the whole chain. We may play different roles, but we’re building the same world.
And when we treat people as disposable—when we laugh at their work, call them derogatory names, or ignore them because of their race, age, country, education level or status—something goes terribly amiss. Not just in them, but in us. It weakens our unity against fate and the elements. It turns neighbors into enemies. It makes people bitter. Makes them pull back. Then we wonder why no one cares. Why everyone is malicious, out for themselves, less human. But we killed that care.
Everyone’s role matters. Some push. Some pull. Some carry. Some fix. The Stoics said we’re like limbs in a body. If one hand refuses to work, the whole body suffers. When one role is abandoned, the system limps. It’s not about status and money as the ego would try to delude us. Open your eyes. It’s about function and helping each other.
“We were born to work together like feet, hands and eyes, like the two rows of teeth, upper and lower. To obstruct each other is unnatural. To feel anger at someone, to turn your back on him: these are obstructions.”
And the strange thing is—most people don’t even realize how much power they have. A receptionist’s smile and kind words might stop an intern from quitting. A janitor who keeps the floor dry ensures that the surgeon goes and saves someone’s life because he doesn’t slip and sprain his ankle. A short mindful conversation might talk someone off a ledge. We don’t see the ripple. But it’s there. The smallest act, if done with care, can hold up the lives of people we’ll never meet. This is the butterfly effect.
But when we don’t show up—when we check out, when we go cold, when we decide to stop trying because, “it doesn’t help us and no one sees it anyway”—the negative effects spread. You think it doesn’t matter, but it does. Every day we have a choice: to pull our weight or make it heavier for others.
Purpose isn’t some dramatic dream we chase. It’s in how we show up in this moment. What we fix. What we soften. What we build. It’s in the small, often invisible ways we help the world keep illuminating beauty, advancement and goodness, that in turn gives us hope in dark times. The point of life has always been to stay true to this purpose.
Marcus Aurelius wrote,
"All of us are working on the same project. Some consciously, with understanding; some without knowing it. Some of us work in one way, and some in others. And those who complain and try to obstruct and thwart things—they help as much as anyone. The world needs them as well. So make up your mind who you'll choose to work with. The force that directs all things will make good use of you regardless—will put you on its payroll and set you to work. But make sure it's not the job Chrysippus speaks of: the bad line in the play, put there for laughs."
In other words—don’t be the idiot in the play complaining and making dumb decisions. Show up. Do your part. Help others where you can. Respect and appreciate everyone else doing their job.
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Vital lessons! Thank you.
Beautifully laid out. I wish world leaders would read this out instead of some of the speeches they do.