When I was in high school I worked a few summers as a lifeguard at a Christian conference center in eastern Pennsylvania. Besides working at the pools, one of the things lifeguards at this place did was guide groups of guests in canoes down a few-mile stretch of a nearby river.
Whenever I went on a canoe run, I traveled light. No room key, no wallet, nothing I wasn’t prepared to go into the water with. Swim trunks, ratty sneakers, life jacket, rescue tube, paddle, and little medical fanny pack. A lot of people going on these trips seemed to think they would stay dry the whole time. Most people didn’t flip their canoe or fall in the water during a canoe run, but it wasn’t uncommon for it to happen. That’s why when we all gathered around to get ready to start a trip, it was kind of part of my routine to size people up and see what kind of personality they were going to be and if they looked like they were prepared to end up in the water.
On one occasion this dude showed up with an enormous key ring clipped to his belt loop. It’s like he was a cross between a janitor and a prison warden. I have no idea why the guy felt like he needed to bring it along on a canoe trip while he was on vacation. Since it was clipped to his belt loop though, I figured it was probably alright. After all, he must be willing to risk it if he was bringing it canoeing, right?
During the course of each canoe trip, we encountered two or three sets of rapids. When I say “rapids,” I’m not talking about huge whitewater, but areas where the water is turbulent. Sometimes the water was very shallow (less than a foot deep), and other times the water was probably waist deep but moving very swiftly and creating eddies and weird currents behind large rocks. In this case the guy with the key ring and whoever else was in the boat with him managed to flip the canoe in a set of very shallow rapids. It happened far enough in front of me that the pair had recovered and were righting the boat by the time I got there, but the guy started to panic when he realized his key ring was no longer attached.
For the people who know me, “compassion” is probably not in the top 10 traits they’d use to describe me, but I can assure you that I was even worse as a teenager. My job was to get these people safely from the start of the canoe run to the end of it. There were canoes from our group downstream who were getting further and further away from us at this point, and I was responsible for their safety, too, so I had to get moving. I rather callously urged the soaked paddlers into their boat so they could get moving again. As they begrudgingly got back in and set off again, it occurred to me that a heavy set of keys like that was probably going to sink pretty fast and not get pushed real far downstream on a rocky bottom. Since I had seen where they tipped over, I had a pretty good idea of where to look. As they paddled away, I took a slower pace, scanning the area for the keys. Yep, there they were. I scooped them up and I think I attached them to the rescue tube laying at the bottom of my boat.
I didn’t let the guy know right away, either. I waited until we were past all the spots where boats were likeliest to flip, then pulled up next to their boat and handed them over. He was hugely relieved, but he probably spent a good 20-30 minutes thinking he’d permanently lost his keys. (I would probably do it a little differently if I were going to do it again.)
Sometimes you’re going to be in a position that allows you to use your experience or knowledge to easily help someone who’s a little out of their depth. The expertise you bring can be such an easy thing to invest, but it can make a huge difference for someone who’s not operating in their natural element. Keep an eye out for the folks you can lend a hand to without even exerting much effort. You might be on the other end of that transaction sometime.