I witnessed an extraordinary act of kindness. What if altruism is more common than we think?

When a virtual stranger helped my grandfather, it reminded me that for all the bad in the world, behind the scenes lie untold stories of extraordinary good

I heard some good news recently. My 91-year-old grandfather called me to test his new hearing aid. For the first time in a long time, he could hear my voice. It thrilled us both.

He and my grandmother had been trying to replace his previous hearing aid for more than a month but confusing instructions, impatient explanations and faulty hardware meant they’d almost given up. Now they had me on speakerphone and were giving me an update in excited voices. This time their story didn’t evoke sympathy but joy.

I soon saw it wasn’t just the hearing aid that had them grinning down the line, it was the person behind it – their new audiologist, Anna.

Unlike the previous providers they’d been dealing with, Anna gave them two miraculous gifts: time and attention. She didn’t, like one audiologist, assume that because a hearing aid worked while on his desk, it would work while in my grandad’s ear, or that if he could make it work at the clinic, my grandad could make it work at home.

Anna not only ensured the new hearing aid worked as it should, she offered to go to my grandparents’ apartment to show them – really show them – how to use it.

At first she suggested dropping by before she started work, but she worried that if traffic made her late they’d be too rushed. In the end she decided on a Friday after work. She’d pick up her son, then come straight to theirs. They protested. My grandad asked why she’d do such a thing. Anna’s reply: why not?

Such kindness might sound rare, even implausible, but I’ve since started wondering: what if it’s more common than we think?

It started with some research that showed people often underestimate the willingness of strangers to engage with, or even befriend them. Then I came across a study that suggested news coverage of current affairs tends to be more negative than positive because humans tend to give negative stimuli more attention.

From an evolutionary perspective, this makes sense: because positive stimuli doesn’t pose a threat to our survival, it doesn’t warrant as much attention. But if negative news is more attention-grabbing news, it will receive more coverage, and if it receives more coverage, we might start to think of the world as a more negative place than it really is. This will affect us at an individual level and a collective one.

I wonder how often my own attention leads me to focus on negative stimuli and stories at the expense of positive ones. I wonder if I’m more attentive to the negative stories my friends and family tell than the positive ones, and whether I’m more inclined to tell negative stories too.

What about all the little stories we only tell ourselves? Are they more negative than they need to be? What if you didn’t offend this person or disappoint that one? What if that friend hasn’t been holding a grudge? What if your parents are proud of you?

Negative stories can attract our attention and prepare us for disappointment. But if we don’t also engage with positive ones, they might lead us to be more cynical, more defensive and less hopeful than we need to be; they might close our minds to happier, and just as likely, possibilities.

We might not think of being wrong as something anyone would want to be, but being wrong – even just the possibility – can be a wondrous thing.

Maybe no one’s even noticed the flaw that, when you look in the mirror, is the only thing you see. Maybe you could have got that job; maybe you will. Maybe that new neighbour would like to be your friend. Maybe that date will call you back.

And maybe there’s still hope for the planet. Maybe some leaders do care; maybe we can make a difference. Maybe even little things – realising we might often be wrong; paying more attention to good news; making a point of sharing it – will help.

Whether Anna arrived before or after 7pm depends on who you ask, but my grandparents both testify with certainty that she stayed for 90 minutes. NINETY MINUTES, they told me, their voices filled with wonder and delight. What’s more, she wouldn’t bill them for a single minute.

Anna understood that for someone with virtually no hearing in one ear and severely impaired hearing in another, speaking quickly was akin to speaking in a foreign language – and when she told my grandfather so, he finally felt understood. She not only knew he needed patience, she was willing to offer it. She spoke to him slowly, giving his brain time to fill in the spaces caused by words he could not catch. She listened, she sympathised, she treated him with kindness and respect.

Anna’s attitude was remarkable. She went beyond the call of duty and, upon leaving, refused to accept anything but words as thanks.

Why do such a thing for virtual strangers? In Anna’s words, why not?

And when we witness or hear of a kind act, why not make a phone call, tell a friend?

Why not remind ourselves that, for all of the bad that’s in the world and in the news, behind the scenes, in people’s ordinary lives, lie untold stories of extraordinary good.

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