Do a random act of kindness.

“On the drive over I nonchalantly suggested that we actually go inside the McDonald's instead of going through the drive-through, because it would be "more of an adventure." She said that was fine. The only money in my wallet was a $20 bill, so I paid for the order with my Debit card and asked my friend to wait at a table until I was done checking out. I would have been embarrassed if she knew what I was about to do. I then handed the cashier the $20 bill and told him I wanted to pay for the next few people to order, "just to make someone's night." He seemed kind of shocked and unsure of what to do and called a manager over who was walking by. I repeated my request to her, and she also looked dubious but said "If you're sure that's what you want to do." I assured her wholeheartedly that it was and walked away with a huge grin on my face. As I walked out I saw the cashier, the manager and another employee who had overheard the conversation all standing side-by-side at the counter looking awed. I was walking on air as I left that McDonald's.”

“Some weeks later, I was driving with my boys and we approached the toll plaza at the Bay Bridge. Cars changed lines repeatedly, cutting each other off, jockeying for position. I formed an intention: If that mini-van behind us — a man and woman up front, two kids in the back — stays put in my lane, I'll pay their toll. I explained my plan to the kids. They were confused. Why would I do that? I explained what had happened to me. They were excited. That's when I realized I'd made a mistake sharing my plan with the kids. I'd given myself an audience and that made my intentions somehow less pure. As if I were doing it so that I could feel good, or we could feel good, or, even worse, so that I'd look good in the eyes of my kids. What's more, now the kids couldn't stop looking back. After we went through — I paid the mini-van's toll as well as my own — my kids kept looking to the car to see their reaction to what we'd done.”