The Purpose of Society

"Society is only meaningful if its purpose and ideals make sense in terms of the individual's purposes and ideals." Peter F. Drucker

Action: Make time to reach out to a "rootless" person who may be unemployed or retired. Drop them a note of support or take them out to lunch. Peter F. Drucker

The Outcast likely appears dirty, smelly, itching and muttering to themselves or "Harvey"(no one else will listen). You have seen her pushing a grocery cart filled above the rim with bags, maybe adorned with an American Flag on the side. You've seen him, yes those were once army fatigues under a great coat, shoes held together with rags, rummaging in the garbage just ahead of you on your crisp walk to work at 7AM carrying your $4.75 Latte (143 degrees). "Now if I can just get past him without making eye contact".

I don't know about you, but strange feelings and thoughts permeate my id: Pity, anger; disgust,admiration; fear; disdain. "Get a Job"! And then I have successfully walked by, and don't think of her again...If only she hadn't whispered "God bless ya, have a nice day". Was that real... Was that Christ?

So, Dr. Drucker wants us to engage one of these outcasts. Why?

1) My first, was a Mr. Robitaille in Montreal in January 1984, just outside the Queen Elizabeth Hotel (Le Reigne Elisabeth). I had just come out of my regular breakfast ritual, bundled against the cold, when he walked up to me begging for something to eat and something hot to drink. To both of our surprise, I jumped right in, responded immediately, turned us around and proceeded to the line of yawning business folks waiting to be seated inside. We introduced ourselves to each other with some initial difficulty (I speak French, not Quebecois) . He said something about maybe not so fancy a restaurant was okay, but I was on a roll. Maitre Di looked us over with recognition, something twinkled in his eye. "Ah, Mssr. Klassen, vous avez trouvee votre patron? (you have found your boss/client/benefactor ... at times the French are drole)." Let me show you a table where we can attend to you properly (meaning: out of the way). Getting through the menu was somewhat awkward, but not impossible. Mr. Robitaille ended up ordering an 'Amburger with frites (no Poutine) et Kaffee, jus d'Orange. I ordered a coffee. Then it became awkward. (He owned the silence)

I can talk about all kinds of stuff. I have no fear of engagement. I don't care what others think of me. Yeah yeah. We slowly started talking about the weather, when it was going to get warmer. Where he was able to sleep. He came from Chikoutimi. Had come for treatment to Montreal. Likes the warmth here (the tunnels, you see). Ah, and there is the beautiful meal now. One handful of fries in his mouth, the other in his great coat pocket. The complete burger with lettuce and tomato followed into the pocket. The orange juice was gone in seconds, and the coffee refilled once in about the same time (could he take the jug?). Mr. Robitaille got up reached over the table, took my hand and with a look of pure pleasure and genuine thanks said that this must have been my first time, and that it gets easier and "praise you mon frere". He left. The Maitre Di just patted me on the back and said "Well done Mssr Klassen, bienvenue chez nous a Montreal mon cop." By treating with the outcast, I had actually confirmed my humanity to my (heretofore unknown) Montreal clan, to those who interacted with him and me in very different ways, every day. Go figure.