Delight
I celebrated my youngest grandson's fifth birthday a little over a week ago. Family and friends gathered at his parent's house for the gift opening, socializing, and food. Sam chose a hockey theme for the cake my daughter purchased, a shock given his long obsession with dinosaurs.
I have partaken of many supermarket cakes for a wide range of occasions over the years. There is a sameness to them: dense; tasteless; frosting that is too thick and too sweet. I know what to expect. It will not be memorable, but good manners require that I share in the rituals of lighting the candles, singing "Happy Birthday," and eating it.
From the very first bite, though, this cake was a pleasant surprise. It became the sole focus of my entire attention for a few moments. The crumb was light, the vanilla present but not overstated, and the thin layer of frosting was moderately sweet. In short, it was an unexpected and welcome delight. Even more astonishing, the bakery that produced this cake was at the local Walmart. I have raved about this cake on a couple of occasions since.
This experience caused me to think about delight and, significantly, the ways in which my work has brought delight to others. Spoiler alert: those ways are few.
Arthur C. Brooks has written that enjoyment, satisfaction, and purpose (or meaning) are macronutrients of happiness. Joy is a positive and transcendent emotion arising from a state of well-being. Like all emotions, the experience of joy is fleeting in nature.
Dictionaries often view delight and joy as synonyms. I think of the former as one of the ways in which latter is made evident. In addition to delight, I identify sensory pleasure, inspiration, amusement, awe, and wonder as expressions of joy.
I experience sensory pleasure when I have lunch with a friend. Inspiration might arise from an encounter with the divine or a serendipitous occurrence. Amusement or fun is the result of a diversion from the humdrum rhythm of daily existence. I was awestruck when I viewed the Hoover Dam. I gazed in wonder when I witnessed a string of communications satellites crossing the night sky. I found delight in a slice of birthday cake.
Each of these types of joy has its own character. What is it about delight, then, that distinguishes it from the others?
Delight is the joy that arises from an encounter with the unexpected. It is its very unexpectedness that grabs one's attention and focuses it on the positive and transcendent nature of the experience.
I can think of very few instances during my city management career in which I set out intentionally to delight others. The first that comes to mind is in the design of bridge railings. For as long as I can remember I have been frustrated when crossing a bridge and found that the railings prevented my seeing the river below. I promised myself that if I ever had the opportunity to influence the design of these structures so that drivers and passengers could see the water, I would do so. I had two such opportunities and took them.
There have been a couple of times when I have found that others were delighted with my work. One was in the annual Facebook announcement of trick-or-treat hours, something I took pains to write in a way that was not the typical government notice. On another occasion, I learned that a citizen was especially pleased with the manner in which I concluded an investigation into a matter that other employees had been unable to resolve.
Why are there so few examples of my creating delight? It is because it did not occur to me to recognize the opportunities to do the unexpected when they presented themselves. I lacked a delight mindset.
Given the low level of expectations many citizens have for their government officials, it should be easy to create user experiences that bring delight. The challenge will always be that what was once unexpected can become commonplace simply because of the delight that results. It is for that reason, I suspect, that much streetscape design in downtowns tends to look as though a single plan has been adopted by the majority of city planners.
On the other hand, there are good and unique instances of efforts made to engender delight. The construction of pocket parks is a prime example of something that, while growing in popularity, offers the opportunity for singular delightful design features. Public art in all its forms can also enliven resident and visitor experiences.
Very different approaches to sparking delight have been taken by a couple of police departments with which I am familiar. One posts regular updates on its Facebook page of Santa Claus' time of arrival in the community, including photoshopping his sleigh and reindeer onto phots of the central business district. Another uses social media to report in a light-hearted way on its more unusual encounters with ne'er-do-wells in the township it protects.
There are everyday ways in which we can bring delight to others. When I work as an interim manager in a city or village, I advise those who staff the reception desk that I am available to meet with any citizen and that it is unnecessary for them to quiz these individuals as to the reason for their visit. I was advised in one community that this was a stark contrast with the practice of my predecessor who insisted on knowing the issue he would be addressing and often refused to meet with people if they did not have an appointment. Sometimes showing common courtesy will bring about feelings of delight.
Those of us who work in the public sector will always want to devote our energies to delivering quality services to citizens. What is needed as well is a delight mindset, a way to recognize times when positive, transcendent, and unexpected experiences can be created that serve only to delight. These efforts, because they lift the spirit, can be another way in which we advance the public health and welfare, contributing to the well-being and happiness of our neighbors.