Initially, the man had approached the subway station service booth.
With the five layers of bulletproof
glass between them, he spoke to the MTA agent while she stood behind the
microphone inside. He was an older
gentleman, pleasant and respectful in manner, and the musicality in his speech
indicated he spoke at least one other language in addition to English. It appeared he needed to purchase a fare card
and it was his first time ever doing so.
But since he would be using a credit card and since the booth agents
only took cash, she directed him to the vending machines where he could make
the purchase.
He walked over to a machine and at
some point, engaged the assistance of a woman who happened to be standing
nearby. I turned my attention back to
the ebook on my phone.
The next time I noticed him, he was
back at the booth, trailing behind the woman he’d been speaking with at the
vending machine. It appeared she had been unable to help him and decided to
approach the MTA agent on his behalf.
Exiting through the booth’s
double-locked steel door, the agent walked them to the closet fare card vending
machine, explaining on the way that MTA agents stationed in the booths were
actually supposed to remain in or near their booths. Once they arrived at the
machine, she began asking a series of questions to guide them through the
prompts.
At first, the interaction went like
this: the agent asked questions, the man answered, the woman reached for the
screen to input the info, the agent stops her saying, “‘No, he has to do
it.’” A few seconds later, again, agent
asks questions, waits for man to answer, man answers, woman reaches for the
screen to input the info, agent stops her with, “‘No, he has to do it.’” Around
the third time this happened, they all started laughing at the woman’s impulse
to help, herself included. Finally, the man, patiently guided by the agent,
goes through all the prompts and purchases a card. They thank the agent as she makes her way
back to the booth, and the other woman leaves.
With fare card in hand, he makes
his way to the waist-high turnstile leading to the subway platform but then
changes his mind, and heads back to the booth. He's in the middle of expressing
his thanks again when, suddenly, she comes back out and starts telling him what
he needs to do when the card is used up. A few sentences in, she stops and
leads him back to the machine, this time to walk him through how to refill the
card.
She was wonderful.
Even a subway station preacher, who
had taken a break from his sermon, had watched the entire exchange and
expressed to her his appreciation of her kindness and patience.
I was beaming behind my face mask.
I appreciated that she made the exception to leave her booth and walk him
through the first purchase. Then, she
insisted that he execute the actions while she read out the prompts on the
screen (true, he had been nodding as she read the prompts but having him
physically go through the process meant a better chance of his connecting to
what was on the screen and retaining the information). She could have stopped there. But 1) she opened herself up more to his
situation and followed her own intuition as to what might be of additional
assistance to him, and 2) cared enough to take him back to the machine and walk
him through how to refill the card for the future.
I am so grateful for people who take
the time to teach others how to do something. And I am so grateful for people
who are kind and patient in the manner they administer assistance. And I am
over the moon grateful for people who, if and when they are able, go a step
further with the help that they provide.
It was lovely to bear witness to,
and so I share.
(Info about bulletproof glass and
double-locked steel doors found in The New York Times article titled, “Subway
Booths Have Gone Quiet. Time for Agents to Step Out?” by Jim Dwyer, Dec.28,
2017.)