{originally written September 28, 2007 - Friday}
Three cheers for Albert and the Washington Post Express. Since I changed jobs a year and a half ago, I take the commuter train from Rockville to Silver Spring. Every morning, rain or shine, Albert faithfully stands at the West entrance to the Rockville Metro handing out the "Express", a free commuters tabloid version of the Washington Post.
Kudos to the Washington Post for getting it right. The Express is an abridged Readers Digest version of The Post. It's just enough news bites for the 15-minute traffic-free train ride to my office. Here's the Express' "Supply Chain":
1. Highly-educated journalists develop reports and analysis of sometimes horrific, world-shaking, &/or interesting political, sports, and human-interest events.
2. Editors condense articles into a couple hundred words or less, often with humorous, hip, LOL headlines and punchlines.
3. Mini-stories are laid out in a 25-page tabloid surrounded by a ton of ads.
4. Published daily, the Express awaits the hordes of rush-hour commuters heading towards DC.
5. Awesome Albert personally greets us every weekday morning, and hands us our paper. This is the most important step: delivery and dissemination.
Albert cheers us on as we troop towards the trains. He compliments us. He encourages us. He shakes hands. He hugs us. He pats us on the back. We stand in line to take papers from Albert's hand, rather than take from the pile. His love is infectious. Everyone - young, old, black, white - has caught Albert's fever.
"Good morning my little sister, looking beautiful today."
"Love that color on you."
"Be careful on the stairs. Walk, don't run."
"Good morning, my brother."
"Is everything OK today? Be happy."
"Like your necklace."
"How U doin', young brother?" [with cool handshake]
"Brothers and sisters, have a nice day."
What does he DO?
Why is he here EVERY day?
How can he always be so HAPPY?
Can he LIVE off this?
How can I HELP him?
Will I see him tomorrow?
If he can face the world, thus so, then surely so can I. I'm feeling good.
Today, Albert is flanked by a well-built, armed security guard (police?). Hmmm. Wonder what's up? (Terrorist threat crosses mind...) A couple feet away stands a whisper of a woman, trying to get a piece of Albert's action, feebly trying to give away her free little English newspaper published by the Falun Gong (the quasi-religious Qi-Gong group banned in China as revolutionary); but she has no interpersonal skills and no takers. Today, after one and a half years of greeting him, I stop, we hug, and I ask, "What is your name?" The policeman smiles and looks away. Albert points to a pin on his work vest, "Albert. It's Albert. What's your's?"
Attention Washington Post: Give this man a raise, and never let him go!
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Postscript August 5, 2008: I've gotten to know Albert a lot better since I first wrote this. Albert, you are the most warm-hearted, inspirational, articulate, and loving man. Congratulations Albert on your recognition in today's Washington Post Express, page 11!
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