Sticky Notes That Changed My Worldview

There are some occurrences in life that have the power to shift your entire perspective on the world around you. One day you’re trudging through your to-do list and simply going through the motions, and then by happenstance, something opens your eyes to the miraculous humans that we overlook on a daily basis. But did you ever expect that the thing that would change it all would be humble little yellow sticky notes?

Today I’m going to share something with you that changed my worldview.

This story fell into my lap with the help of my colleage Dr. Srikumar Rao. Now, neither of us could pinpoint who the original author was, but the impact this little story has made on both of our lives is truly profoud. I’m literally looking at my everyday movements through fresh eyes now… searching for people going the extra mile for others, people just doing the right thing, those who are teaching their kids the smallest, but most important courtesies, and the grown-ups using the “how to be a good person” lessons we are all taught in first grade. 

Here is a great story, a parable, that reminds us to see the good and acknowledge it as often as humanly possible.

This may sound absolutely insane, but I need to document it because I’m still processing what happened and honestly, it’s changed my entire perspective on life…

Here’s the true story…

For five Mondays in a row, I found a sticky note on my car windshield in the parking garage. Not just any sticky notes. These were hyper-specific observations about me, written in immaculate handwriting with a silver gel pen.

Monday #1: I came out after a soul-crushing marketing meeting to find a yellow sticky note that read: “Your parallel parking on 10/7 at 8:47 AM was a masterclass in spatial awareness. The equidistance from both vehicles was chef’s kiss. – An Admirer of Geometric Precision”

I looked around. No one. I checked my car for dings, thinking it was sarcasm. Nope. I HAD parked really well that day. Like, perfectly centered. I kept the note.

Monday #2: This time, a blue sticky note: “Thursday, 3:42 PM – The way you held the door for that delivery person while juggling your phone, coffee, AND that massive binder deserves recognition. Your situational awareness is exemplary. – S.O.M.D.”

I was officially creeped out but also… weirdly flattered? Someone was WATCHING me, but only to catalog my mundane competencies?

Monday #3: Pink sticky note: “Your grocery bag distribution technique (10/18, 6:15 PM) was biomechanically sound. Equal weight distribution, strategic handle grip, minimal plastic strain. You’re preventing bag failures AND optimizing ergonomic load-bearing. – S.O.M.D.”

Now I was INVESTED. Who was S.O.M.D.? Why were they documenting my life like I was a subject in some bizarre positive psychology study?

Monday #4: Green sticky note: “The patience you exhibited while that car took 6 minutes to back out of their spot (10/21, 8:52 AM) while you waited was admirable. No honking. No aggressive idling. Just quiet dignity. The world needs more of this. – S.O.M.D.”

I remembered that day. I HAD been patient. Mostly because I was listening to a really good podcast, but still.

Monday #5: Purple sticky note: “Your wave to the parking attendant every morning is a small act of recognition that acknowledges his humanity. He smiles every time you leave. You’re making his day better. – S.O.M.D.”

This next one made me tear up a little, not gonna lie…

I decided enough was enough. I was going to catch this person. So last Monday, I came down to my car an hour early and just… waited. Sitting in the dark garage like an absolute creep, staking out my own vehicle.

And then, at 7:47 AM, I saw her.

An older woman, maybe mid-60s, wearing a bright orange rain jacket even though it wasn’t raining, walking purposefully through the garage with a messenger bag. She stopped at a gray sedan three rows over and placed a sticky note on the windshield. Then she turned toward my car.

I got out.

She froze. We made eye contact. For a second, I thought she might run.

“S.O.M.D.?” I called out.

She straightened up, smiled, and walked over. “Society of Mundane Distinctions,” she said, extending her hand.“I’m Margaret.”

“What… IS this?” I asked, gesturing at the sticky notes I’d brought with me (yes, I’d kept all of them). 

Margaret’s face lit up. “Oh, I’m so glad you saved those! I’m a field researcher. We’re a volunteer organization dedicated to documenting and celebrating the small, unremarkable acts of competence and kindness that keep society functioning.”

She pulled out a worn leather journal from her bag. Inside were PAGES of observations:

“Subject C: Masterful zipper-merge execution, no ego.”

“Subject F: Always return the shopping cart to the corral, even in rain.”

“Subject J: Holds elevator door with foot while helping parent with stroller.”

“Why?” I asked.

Margaret’s expression turned serious. “Because no one notices. Everyone’s chasing promotions and Instagram likes and big romantic gestures. But civilization doesn’t run on grand gestures. It runs on the person who lets you merge in traffic. The person who quietly picks up trash that isn’t theirs. The person who remembers to water the communal office plant.”

She gestured around the garage.“There are invisible heroes everywhere. People who do tiny things right, every single day, and no one ever tells them they matter. So, we do.”

“We?” I asked.

She smiled. “There are 23 of us in the city. Different territories. I have parking garages and grocery stores. Gerald has coffee shops and public transit. Yuki has parks and sidewalks. We’re all retired or work part-time. This is how we spend our time.”

I stood there, completely stunned. “Can I… join?”

Margaret looked at me appraisingly. “Do you have a good eye for unnoticed excellence?”

I thought about the teenager at the gas station who always arranges the chip bags so the labels face forward. The way my neighbor carefully salts the sidewalk in front of EVERY apartment, not just his own. The crossing guard who does a little dance when the kids cross safely.

“Yeah,” I said. “I think I do.”

She handed me a small pack of multi-colored sticky notes and a silver gel pen.

“Welcome to S.O.M.D.,” she said. “Your territory is the coffee district and the riverside trail. Look for the things people do right. The small dignities. The tiny competencies. And tell them you noticed.”

That was three weeks ago. Since then, I’ve left 17 notes.

I told someone their parallel parking was“a geometric triumph.” I told a barista that the precise amount of foam on their cappuccinos was“an underappreciated art form.” I told a guy walking his dog that the way he always picks up after his pet AND checks for any missed spots was“civic responsibility exemplified.”

Yesterday, I saw a woman reading one of my notes on her car windshield. She looked around, confused at first. Then she smiled—like, REALLY smiled—tucked the note in her pocket, and walked a little taller to her car. 

That feeling? Better than any like, share, or promotion I’ve ever gotten.

The world is full of people doing small things beautifully. Most of them will never win awards or get recognition. But they’re the ones keeping everything from falling apart.

My mission, should I choose to accept it (and I have), is to see them. And to tell them.

So, keep your eyes open. You might be excellent at something tiny and perfect. And one Monday morning, you might find a sticky note that tells you someone noticed.

S.O.M.D. is watching. And we’re very, very impressed.

Well now. What do you think? 

• I know I’ll never miss the opportunity to compliment a conscientious teen, bagging my groceries carefully.
• I’m telling strangers if it pops into my mind that their coat or boots are wonderfully cool. 
• I’m now letting the customer service person know what I’m thinking when they are especially helpful and cheerful. (I’ve gotten so far into those conversations that I recently exchanged recipes with a customer service gal with Rothy’s shoes!… a new friend, out there somewhere is making my Thanksgiving fritters!) 

And so on. 

And you know… for all the people I have complimented, thanked, validated and recognized, I still feel that I’m the biggest winner in these interactions. My oh my, it feels good to make other people smile and walk a little taller. 

Picking up this new way of viewing the world, might be just the lifeboat you need to keep you delightedly afloat in these strange times with family and others… 

Now, I encourage you to go forth into the world, looking for the best in others…And tell them when you see it!

Warmly, 

Dr. Lynda

Looking for a little more inspiration? Check out one of these remarkable true stories from our archives!