I spent my college summers working on the Pirate Ride at an amusement park in Sandusky, Ohio. Keeping the line in order, loading and unloading passengers and catching bad kids that got out of their boats were my official responsibilities. My unofficial responibility, which I took much more seriously, was flirting with the park guests.
We could have come up with a code word or hand signal to notify our colleagues that a fox (that's what we called cute boys in the 80s) had just entered the confines of the Pirate Ride, but I thought it would be more fun to involve the foxes. In my opinion, they deserved to know. So I invented a game called Bingo.
I supplied the girls on my crew with red Bingo chips. When one of us saw a boy we thought was cute we'd give him a chip and ask him to deliver it to the girl at the front of the ride. At that point they were innocent messengers. They usually tried to give the chip to the girl in the middle of the line (because cute boys aren't always so good at following directions). It worked per plan, because then the girl in the middle was also aware that he'd been chosen. She smiled, refused the chip and said it was meant for the girl at the front.
When the chip reached its final destination my colleague shouted "Bingo" and informed the unwitting guest that the girl who'd given him the chip had selected him as one of the cutest riders of the day. Game over. Some kept the chip, some turned it in and some came back hours later for another trip on the Pirate Ride.
I'd given a million compliments before the summer of '84 and I've given a million since and I've never read a book or an article about how or why you should do it (there are plenty). I don't stop at complimenting a stranger's shoes (which gets quite a reaction in Italy, because complimenting strangers is strange). I compliment people's flower gardens, people's strength riding up a mountain and people's kids. If I see that work has gone into something, I want them to know it's been noticed.
I remember when a friend told me that a friend of their friend saw me playing beach volleyball and that I was in great shape. I've never had a great body, because that involves the more feminine things that I lack, but being in great shape was as close as I could get and it probably meant more to hear it from a friend of a friend of a friend... than a friend.
I remember when I was a bike messenger and a man in an elevator said I looked like a Kennedy. I took it as a compliment and then googled the Kennedys for a family photo. I don't find the women attractive, but I suppose my khaki shorts, white polo shirt and wavy hair could have won me a place in the family photo and I would have enjoyed the company.
I remember running past two ladies that were out for a walk and they shouted, "You look like a real athlete. Have a nice day!" I'm sure it made me run an extra mile.
None of those people would have imagined that years later I'd be writing about them, but their compliments keep on giving. I'd like to think that one of my Bingo chips is floating around in some guy's junk drawer and when he bumps into it he thinks of the Pirate Ride girls in Sandusky.
As kids we were told if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all. Good advice. But I think future generations should be told if you can say something nice, say it.
